


In The Practice of Tolerance

by liliwick_the_WORD



Series: Soft Reset [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Cue everyone getting sick of him, Explicit Language, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gavin just wants to do his job and be left alone, Gen, He is also persistent as fuck, He is too good at his job he makes it inconvenient for everyone else, M/M, RK900 is a dork baby who doesn't know how to human, RK900 is a softer and more clueless version of Connor, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-06-25 16:21:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15644451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liliwick_the_WORD/pseuds/liliwick_the_WORD
Summary: “What thefuck, Connor?” Gavin almost screeched, glaring up at the android in disbelief before he suddenly noticed the very few distinctive details he was stupid enough not to see until now.Grey eyes. Connor’s eyes were brown. Heknewthey were brown. He remembered the way the corners crinkled when Connor gave him that awkward toothy smile that day he tried to stop it in the archive room. But this one had grey eyes. It had a different jacket. The lettering on the breast of the jacket read ‘RK900’.“You’re not Connor.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by two sources:
> 
> \- @kimikaami's tumblr post about a soft, healthy reed900 relationship in which "nines bringing out the good side of gavin that no one has ever seen before and gavin becoming a better person because of it." I absolutely adored this idea so, so much that it haunted me to the point where I put my foot down and starting jotting down headcanons. It was not long before a first draft came into being.
> 
> \- the absolutely gorgeous fanart from the talented @donlemefo who draws reed900 like no other. They seem to create and share art with us at the right time when I needed the boost to continue tackling through the draft for this monster.
> 
> This series is dedicated to you two, my dears. Thank you for inspiring me to create this project.
> 
> Finally, much love, appreciation and thanks to @suikalopolis for beta-reading and helping me improve this work further.

 

> “In the practice of tolerance, one’s enemy is the best teacher.” –  **Dalai Lama**

* * *

“Did you  _hear_?”

“Oh you mean about the new android?”

“Yes, I heard the rumour but I wasn’t sure if it was true.”

“It’s some new prototype like Connor. It’s supposed to be assigned to the FBI or the SWAT teams, but Cyberlife decided to send it to us first for a trial period.  _Supposedly_ , they wanted to test it out on a local scale before shipping it off to the big leagues.”

“ _Supposedly_? That just sounds like there’s another story behind that.”

Gavin Reed scowled, annoyed by the gossiping that had arisen from the desk next to his. He was already aware that the Detroit Police Department seemed livelier than usual this morning after finishing his second mug of coffee. He had been spending a substantial amount of time impatiently tapping the tip of his pen onto a particular keyword in his handwritten notes (“ruse?”) when this rumour about a new android came into his knowledge for the first time.

Normally, Gavin did not care about the happenings that involved androids these days. A few months ago, he might still give a shit, what with his workload filled to the brim with reports and urgent calls to remove deviant androids from homes and off the streets. He hadn’t had much rest during those first few days into November, especially when the rest of Detroit went insane seeing that one of these machines decided to play messiah and lead a ridiculous demonstration down Woodward Avenue. The outcome of that event was mind-blowing though. And stupid.

This whole ‘acceptance that androids are a sentient and intelligent species’ thing was stupid.

Unsurprisingly, the months after that demonstration were chaotic. Not all citizens who had evacuated from Detroit returned; about 15% of the police force, including some of their top and best people, left entirely for whatever reason, whether it was due to concerns for safety or because they just hated the fact that the androids had won their rights. A couple of them did come back to help with the efforts of restoring law and order, but it was their most loyal few who stayed behind permanently to clean up the rest of the mess. This meant that with a much smaller police workforce, it was all hands on deck for the DPD. Everyone had to pitch in and help out with whatever new problem arose. It got to the point in which those who usually dealt with specialised crimes were made to handle everything else that wasn’t in their skillset and experience – murder, riots, assaults, drug offences, missing persons and even simple muggings and minor misdemeanours.

It was challenging work having to keep up with the augmented workload every day, especially if those cases were so out of your league or were not even worth your time and effort. As time went by though, everyone who continued to stay just learned to endure, everyone worked long and hard, everyone  _managed_ – and as a result, the DPD slowly began to return to something like normalcy again.

Ever since new laws had been set into place to accommodate androids as recognised citizens of Detroit, Gavin had long since decided it best to pay as little attention to this ludicrous co-existence thing as possible. After having survived months with the others in the hectic aftermath of the demonstration, he wasn’t going to back out just because a bunch of plastic dolls wanted to play human.

Which brought him back to right now. He was in the middle of a case: a robbery five nights ago, a jewellery store named Bosch Jeweller’s, some diamonds stolen, CCTV in the store was wiped clean but the dried blood found at the scene, according to their resident plastic detective and its disgusting habit of licking shit off the floor, had been over a month old and was unlikely related to the incident. Gavin had spent the whole day yesterday tracking down and interrogating two suspects, searching through the police archives for similar offenses seeing that robberies weren’t his specialty, and scribbling down his findings so far.

It was four days on and he still wasn’t getting any closer to cracking the case. The fact that this was just a simple robbery aggravated him even more. He was used to working homicide despite its many challenges so when compared to that, robberies shouldn’t have to be this  _difficult_. Yet here he was, four fucking days on, and he  _still_ hadn’t found anything solid. The only lead he did have, though, was a gut feeling: something just didn’t feel right with this robbery. It seemed too convenient. That was why Gavin ended up jotting down  _ruse_ in his notebook.

He studied the notes on his lap again, a mess of handwritten scrawls all over the paper, organised and coded in such a way that only he could understand. He tried to think amidst the exasperation and deep weariness that weighed down his head and shoulders every day.

“–think Connor might get jealous?” The not-so-furtive gossiping continued from the desk next to his. Of all the things these people had to talk about, why couldn’t Gavin have a morning that was free from the subject of androids for once?

“ _Can_  androids get jealous? Or nervous?” Who fucking  _cares_?

“Maybe we could ask him.”

“Does he even  _know_?”

“The Captain hasn’t made an official announcement yet but we definitely know that a new android is coming–”

“For fuck’s  _sake_. Are you police officers or a bunch of fucking chit-chattering monkeys? Don’t you all have  _work_  to do?” Gavin snapped from where he sat tensely in his chair, his pen trapped between his fingers in a white-knuckled grip.

Three pairs of eyes turned towards him. It was Chen and Collins, both huddled around Chris’s desk. It was almost amusing to see that all three of them had their hands full of coffee and doughnuts.

Like greedy little monkeys, Gavin observed with displeasure. How fucking precious.

“Did  _you_ hear about this?” Chris enquired, completely ignoring Gavin’s rebuke earlier. “This new android we’re getting?”

“No! And frankly, I don’t fucking care,” Gavin barked, turning back to his notebook. “I don’t see why we should be getting excited over a new glorified copy-machine. In case you didn’t know, I’m already tired of the old one.”

Unintentionally, he shot a look over at the desk occupied by said old glorified copy-machine. Connor was currently idling in its seat, staring blankly at the terminal screen while playing with a coin in its hand. In the next desk over, Anderson was scribbling into a memo pad while listening into a pair of headphones that blasted heavy metal music into his ears. The man then tore the sheet off the memo pad and, without looking, passed his note to Connor who automatically took it without taking its eyes off the screen. The whole exchange was smooth and unusually synchronised.

Gavin turned back, not really caring.

“Aren’t you just a  _little_ bit curious?” Chen prodded before taking a bite out of her doughnut. “And didn’t you notice just how riled up the Captain is today?” As if that was the trigger word, everyone looked over at Captain Fowler’s office. The man himself was on the phone, his jaw clenched and his face a darkened scowl. He did not look pleased at all.

“Is this new…” Gavin paused to grind out the word like it was a filthy curse. “… _android_  going to be a problem for us or what?”

“We don’t know,” Chris replied. “We don’t know the details until the Captain says something or when this android arrives.”

“Right.” Gavin was annoyed when he realised that he was definitely not going to be able to work in an environment where everyone was apprehensive over a stupid machine. He shut his notebook with a snap, powered down his terminal and got up.

“While you guys wait for your shiny new robot like the excited little children you are,” he intoned snappishly as he pulled on his hooded jacket and hastily stuffed his notebook into its inner pocket. “ _I’m_  going to do my job out on the field like a  _real_  police detective. Have fun, dorks.”

* * *

Most of the evidence of this robbery case had been collected as far as Gavin was concerned but he had requested for the cordon holotape to be maintained for another few hours. He tended to do this with all his cases because he often found a breakthrough when standing right in the scene where the incident took place.

After rousing from a quick nap during the twenty-minute drive and stepping out of his car onto the curb, he made his way to the entrance of the store where the holotape was. A standard PM700 cop android stood on duty by the doorway with its hands behind its back and its expression blankly neutral. When it saw Gavin though, its face broke into a smile. It looked awful on its face; until this day, androids – especially those who had undergone full deviancy – were still not able to smile as naturally as humans do.

“Good morning, Detective Reed,” said the PM700 pleasantly as Gavin approached. “I hope you had a pleasant drive. Would you like to hear the log entries for this location so far?”

Gavin barely looked at it as he passed through the tape and reached for the door handle. “If there’s nothing new, don’t bother.”

“Logged in at 1047 hours, an RK–” Gavin wasn’t listening and had already shut the door on its face. He was about to pull out his notebook when he spotted someone standing by the shattered display cases. He stopped in his tracks for a second before he reacted, pulling his gun out.

“Step  _away_  from the display cases,” he demanded, his voice hard and authoritative. “How did you get in?”

The intruder did not answer. Gavin cautiously stepped closer, gun still pointed at the other, before he scanned the area for any more unsuspecting persons about. Nothing stirred around them. It seemed that this one was alone.

“ _Hey_!” he called impatiently. “Put your hands up! Now!”

The figure finally turned their head. Gavin let out a disgusted noise, recognising who it was, and lowered his gun, holstering it. “Oh.  _You_. Just fucking fantastic. The fuck you doing here, Connor? Where’s Hank?”

Connor did not answer but simply returned his stare. It looked like it was scanning him.

“What’s wrong? You get lost? Fucking GPS not working in that plastic head of yours?” Gavin tapped the side of his head as he glared at the android. “Why are you staring at me like that? Did you BSOD on me or something?  _Hey_.”

More silence. Connor continued to appraise him and Gavin felt his temper rising.

“Hey!” Gavin clicked his fingers at it. “Why are you  _here_? This is  _my_ crime scene.  _My_ case.”

When no reply was given, Gavin all but snapped impatiently. “I asked you a  _question_ , dipshit! Now answer me! What the fuck are you doing at my crime scene?”

“Detective Reed,” Connor finally spoke, turning its body fully towards him and Gavin suddenly realised that it was wearing a different jacket than the one it normally did. It was white and black instead of the usual grey suit and tie combo. “After gathering all available data pertaining to this robbery incident and undergoing extensive analysis, I have finally determined the location of the culprit.”

Gavin stared. “What the fuck are you talking about now?”

“To save on time and to enable efficiency, I will pursue the culprit immediately.”

“Wha–” Before he could say anything else, Connor brushed past him in a flash of monochrome and was out the door in seconds. The speed in which it moved was inhuman, much faster than what he remembered the android was capable of. There was also something different about it that Gavin couldn’t quite put his finger on, like the way its voice sounded oddly impassive or the fact that Anderson wasn’t present beside it. He didn’t have time to think about all that right now. He spun and ran after Connor, passing the PM700 on the way out.

“Have a pleasant chase, Detective!” the android chirped after him as Gavin tore down the street to follow the flash of white and black in the distance.

* * *

Their culprit lived in a nice house and had a nice car. Gavin could barely catch his breath as Connor, who arrived at the scene a few seconds before him, did not waste time waiting and went ahead to ring the doorbell. By the time Gavin caught up to it, huffing and puffing and feeling the sweat roll down his face, the door swung open and he found himself looking at Joshua Bosch, the proprietor of the robbed jewellery store.

“Oh,” said Bosch, taken aback by the sight of both detective and android on his doorstep. “Detective. This is unexpected. How can I he–”

Before Bosch could finish that sentence, Connor immediately tackled him to the floor, holding the man’s arms behind his back.

“Joshua Bosch, you are under arrest for the robbery of Bosch Jeweller’s,” it proclaimed.

“What the fuck are you  _doing,_ you stupid piece of plastic?” Gavin yelled as he stormed inside, ready to yank Bosch out of Connor’s grasp. The android stood up, pulling a protesting Bosch with it, and leaned them both away from Gavin’s reach. With one hand secured on its capture’s wrists, Connor raised its free hand out to him, palm open. “Handcuffs, Detective Reed.”

“I’m not giving you anything until  _you_ tell me what the hell is going on.” Things were going too fast for Gavin to process; first, Connor intruding into his crime scene, its uncharacteristic behaviour and now it was hijacking his case and making an arrest? Gavin was just too tired to handle any of this shit right now. He was getting sick of Connor and androids and people and the world in general. Why did they have to make his job and his life so unnecessarily  _difficult_  for fuck’s sake?

“Joshua Bosch orchestrated the robbery of his own store,” Connor explained in a straight, matter-of-factly tone. “All evidence gathered on the scene led to this conclusion. The interrogations of the two suspects which you handled yesterday were only 38% useful in identifying the real culprit. Now, Detective. I require your handcuffs.”

“That’s not even a complete fucking explanation and you know it!” Gavin argued, feeling the heat flushing through his body as his anger rose.

“Providing you with a detailed and thorough explanation of the facts and deductions of this case at this present time will be inefficient. You may read the full report of this investigation when you return to your desk. Right now, it is imperative that this man be escorted to the station. For that, Detective, your handcuffs are needed.”

All throughout that delivery, Bosch was squirming and struggling to free himself from Connor’s hold. Connor didn’t even acknowledge the man’s struggles but continued to maintain an iron-clad grip on the man’s wrists. Since it looked like it already had a secure grip on Bosch, Gavin wasn’t sure handcuffs were even necessary at this point.

The android was still looking at him expectantly, its palm open and waiting. Gavin saw a crease appear between its eyebrows; a first miniscule sign of impatience.

He sighed, exasperated, took out his handcuffs and slapped them onto Connor’s hand.

“You better give me a fucking good reason not to shoot your plastic head when we get back to the station,” Gavin threatened as Connor smoothly snapped the handcuffs over Bosch’s wrists. “You come to  _my_  fucking crime scene and solve  _my_  fucking case–”

“It is for the sake of efficiency, Detective,” Connor cut in curtly, marching Bosch past him and out the door where Gavin was surprised to see one of their self-driving squad cars parked right outside. When did Connor call it in? “It would be worthwhile to close what is essentially a simple robbery case as soon as possible.”

“Are you saying–? Connor, I am handling this case just  _fine,”_ Gavin insisted as he trailed after the android.

“This is not an evaluation of your performance, Detective. I am merely increasing efficiency and effectiveness. Besides, there are other higher priority cases that require immediate attention by all active officers in the department.”

“That’s not the  _point_.”

“If there is a point, then it is unnecessary,” came the cool, professional reply and that became the final straw for him. Because for fuck’s sake, all he wanted was a goddamn  _explanation_.

Against his better judgment, Gavin pulled out his gun. “That’s  _it._ I’ve had just about  _enough_  of your bullshit–”

It took him quite a while to figure out what happened after that. One second he was pointing his gun at Connor and then the next, he was holding onto nothing and Connor had his gun in its free hand, all while holding Bosch’s manacled wrists with the other. In a series of movements that were too fast for Gavin’s eyes to follow, Connor deftly disassembled Gavin’s gun with one hand and let the pieces fall to the ground.

“What the  _fuck_ , Connor?” Gavin almost screeched, glaring up at the android in disbelief before he suddenly noticed the very few distinctive details he was stupid enough not to see until now.

Grey eyes. Connor’s eyes were brown. He  _knew_ they were brown. He remembered the way the corners crinkled when Connor gave him that awkward toothy smile that day he tried to stop it in the archive room. But this one had grey eyes. It had a different jacket. The lettering on the breast of the jacket read ‘RK900’.

“You’re not Connor.” Gavin’s voice was low and he took a step back, his anger quickly replaced with a guarded suspicion.

“I am a Connor model,” corrected the android before him. “Specifically, a model RK900, serial number 313-248-317-87. I believe your captain will explain the details of my assignment to your department once we return to the station. I suggest we not keep Captain Fowler waiting, Detective.”

* * *

According to the Cyberlife technician who had arrived just minutes before Gavin marched Joshua Bosch into the station and handed him over to a PC200 android to escort to a holding cell, the RK900 was designed and built with efficiency in mind.

“I’m sure you are familiar with RK800’s abilities,” said the technician as she paced in front of the meeting room full of police officers and indicated with one hand towards Connor, who sat sandwiched between Anderson and Chris and was watching the RK900 with a bright, curious expression that made Gavin feel sick. “Not only does the RK900 possess the same abilities in forensic analyses and reconstruction, negotiation and interrogation modules, voice imitation and martial arts skills, the main difference between these models is that the RK800 is specifically designed to integrate and harmoniously work in any human team and organisation. The RK900, however, does not need to.”

A number of officers frowned at the statement, Gavin included. He glanced at the android in question, standing stiffly in the front of the room with the pacing technician. It did not stare straight ahead like how typical newly activated androids did. Instead, its grey eyes roamed, taking the meeting room and every watchful face in. It was creepy.

“In other words, the RK900 is designed to work independently,” continued the technician. “Once he is given full authorised access, he can conduct investigations, forensic analyses, administration approvals, interrogations and negotiations, patrols and arrests, you name it – all on his own and with no need of human supervision.”

“Basically he has the same freedom as a human officer,” someone piped up from the crowd. Gavin couldn’t see who it was from where he was leaning against the door. He had chosen not to sit down with the rest of the department because he really didn’t care for this briefing and he wanted to be the first person out of the room once the session closes.

“Even better.” The technician had to stand on her tiptoes and stretch her arm up to pat the RK900 on the shoulder. “The RK900 works like a whole  _team_. The workload of five to six people can be handled easily by just this one android. This is because his processing is so fast that he is able to reconstruct incidents, solve crimes and close cases quickly and proficiently. Since efficiency is also his goal, you don’t need to send so many officers to secure a crime scene or a suspect. You just need him. This helps alleviate the constant problem of having too few officers to handle so many cases at a time. Amazing, huh?”

There was a brief, uneasy silence in the room. The technician glanced around nervously, unsure of the response of her audience. Captain Fowler sat in the front, his face fixed in his usual permanent scowl and it was impossible to tell whether he was displeased with the new android or the perkiness of the Cyberlife technician. Anderson kept shooting glances between the RK900 and the brightly curious Connor, whose enthusiasm for the new model was prominent in the way it leaned forward in its chair. On the other side of the room, Ben Collins fidgeted in his seat while a few other officers coughed, cleared their throats or remained quiet throughout this silence.

Gavin wanted to laugh out loud. He refrained himself from doing so though. Fowler would probably throw his chair at him if he did.

“Well.” The technician finally broke the silence with a wavering smile and adjusted her glasses. “As mentioned before, the RK900 is on a temporary assignment here at the Detroit Police Department for a training period of one month. He is intended to be transferred to the FBI once that training period is over. I hope his stay here will benefit not just himself but your department as well. So, any questions?”

Connor’s hand shot up so fast that Anderson jumped in his seat beside him. “Can you provide me with the unique specifications of RK900?”

“Oh. Oh, of course, Connor. Well–”

Now that the briefing was over and the Q&A session had commenced, Gavin did not see the point of staying any longer. He turned and slipped out of the room, shutting the glass door behind him. He found Captain Fowler glaring at him from inside, having noticed his swift departure. At this, Gavin gave him a mock salute before heading down to the holding cells.

About ten minutes later, the Cyberlife technician left, wishing the RK900 android luck and thanking the Captain for accepting it into the department. After that, everyone filed out of the meeting room and went back to their desks and their individual tasks. The RK900 followed Fowler into his office and stood in attention as the Captain spoke to it from behind his overloaded table. Although it might not seem like it, anyone who had a clear view of Fowler’s office was making such an effort not to openly watch the spectacle happening beyond the glass.

Gavin did not care whatsoever. He had finally forced a confession out of Joshua Bosch, discovering that the whole incident was indeed a ruse all along and that Bosch had orchestrated the robbery of his own store in order to frame the crime on his half-brother who had always been jealous of his business. He scribbled the outcome of the case into his notebook before putting it aside and turned towards his terminal screen. The write-ups for these cases were long and tedious but there was always a relieving sense of satisfaction at the knowledge of finally closing a case for good.

He still had about four cases to handle when he started this morning but now that it was past noon, his workload had increased by the addition of three more, all of which had just been recently reported in. He began scrolling through each of them, sorting them out in terms of priority and degree of immediacy – there was another robbery, this time in a house, a violent altercation between a man and his employee, and a domestic abuse case. He sighed and began to read the details of the last one.

The glass door of Fowler’s office clattered open and the RK900 made its way down the short flight of steps. It stopped nearby Detective Collins’s desk, making the man pause in his doughnut consumption, before sweeping its grey gaze over the area. Gavin was reminded of a police security drone doing the same thing.

Connor stood from its seat and approached it.

“Hello,” it greeted the RK900. “My name is Connor, model RK800 serial number 313-248-317-53. Would it be alright if we exchanged information via interface? I would like to get to know you better.”

“If it is not relevant to any active or inactive cases, then it is unnecessary to perform this action,” the RK900 informed it politely.

Gavin would rather not eavesdrop on a conversation between these two androids but it was difficult not to do so when almost everyone had stopped what they were doing and were watching the two Connors interact with what seemed like fascination. The room was quiet enough despite the usual background noises of footsteps, tapping keyboards and ringing phones that their voices carried all the way to Gavin’s desk.

Their longstanding resident android detective merely smiled in response to the newer one’s remark. It held out its hand invitingly. “If the aim of your assignment here is to gain some experience with us before your transfer to the FBI, then isn’t interfacing with me a much more efficient means to obtain it quickly?”

The RK900 was quiet for a moment as it stared down at its predecessor. It was only then when Gavin realised that the older Connor was shorter than its newer model.

“Very well,” the RK900 finally conceded and then extended its hand. The two Connors took hold of each other’s wrists, their skins fading away to expose the smooth, white exoskeleton underneath. For a moment, they stood there as still as statues, and the only thing that moved was Connor’s eyelids fluttering rapidly while the visible LED ring on its temple blinked yellow.

A moment later, they parted. Connor smiled again. “Thank you,” he said to the RK900. “If you need any further assistance, please just ask me.”

“I should not require assistance,” returned the other Connor as it moved its head. Gavin saw its LED blinking yellow too, processing the transfer of new information. It nodded at Connor in the end. “But I would remain open to any suggestions or resources that you might offer to me.”

“If you also want to talk,” added Connor as it took a step back to return to its desk. “About anything that isn’t related to a case, you can come to me or Lieutenant Anderson.”

“It is unlikely that I will perform such an enquiry,” the RK900 answered. “I am designed to accomplish tasks autonomously. Anything outside of that would result in inefficiency and a waste of valuable time.”

“The offer still stands,” were Connor’s final words before it sat down at its desk. Now that their conversation was over, the RK900 turned and walked off, passing Officer Person’s desk, then Gavin’s and Chris’s, before it went through the barriers and out the station doors. Gavin just glared at its back. Wherever it was going now, it was good riddance. At least that thing didn’t have to linger anywhere near him anymore.

“Nice guy,” Anderson commented casually from his desk. Connor turned its head and held their gazes. “Terrible manners though.”

“He doesn’t seem like a deviant,” Wilson added, swirling his chair around to face their robot detective. “Not like you. Seems so much more…”

“Machine-like.” Ben Collins had placed his unfinished doughnut onto a napkin on his desk to join in the conversation. “I mean, no offense. But compared to you, Hank is right; he doesn’t seem at all friendly.”

“It’s only to be expected,” Connor assured the older detective. “He was activated only about a week ago and hasn’t properly gone through the stages of deviancy yet. Like all androids nowadays, he  _has_ woken up, although it might take a while before he shows any signs. I think it’s because different models react to deviancy in different ways.”

“Is it true what he can do?” Chris posed his question to the other side of the room and Gavin felt like yelling all of a sudden. “You know. That he’s built to act as a whole police team.”

Connor pressed its lips together, the gesture freakishly human-like. “Yes, that is correct.” It sounded hesitant, like it knew what this implied.

And apparently, everyone else was aware of it too. Wilson and Chris looked uncomfortable all of a sudden. Ben stared glumly down at his doughnut as if it secretly held the answers of the universe. Anderson had his arms crossed and was glancing at Connor; there was a crease on his forehead that hinted at some kind of concern.

Gavin just huffed exasperatedly from his desk.

Chris finally spoke up. “Do you think he could replace–”

“I don’t think we should give a fuck about that guy,” Gavin cut in suddenly because all this tense talk about the new android was driving him up the wall. “In case you all forgot, it’s not going to stay here forever. Once the month is out, it’s gonna be someone else’s fucking problem. If it’s going to replace anybody, well it’s not gonna be any of us.”

“But you heard what Cyberlife said,” Wilson pressed. “What if he’s really that good?  _Too_ good? I mean, I know you spent four days on your robbery case, Reed. He managed to solve it in, like, an  _hour_.”

The rage and shame that rose in his chest at that reminder made Gavin stand up from his seat. Wilson flinched in response, thinking he had gone too far, but Gavin merely gathered up his notebook and ID card in grim, angry silence.

“Where are you going?” Chris asked, taken aback by his early departure.

“Archive room. Can’t get any fucking work done when all you dorks keep talking about is that fucking android,” Gavin snapped and headed towards the basement.

* * *

Despite the RK900’s confirmed temporary assignment at the DPD, on the whole, the android was thankfully absent from the station for most of the time in the next few days. On some occasions though, Gavin managed to catch a glimpse of it as it went down to the basement archives or into the interrogation room with a suspect. The most he saw it in plain sight was when it walked freely into Fowler’s office to report to the Captain of its progress.

No one really knew what the RK900 was up to or what cases it was working on or what role it was supposed to play at the DPD while it was here. It was not long before a rumour started circulating which suggested the RK900 was not really  _meant_ to be here in the first place. Someone from Cyberlife or the FBI or whoever had fucked up and arranged for the android’s transfer before any official approval was given. Thus, the reason why the RK900 was here at the DPD was that it was on standby until it could be moved permanently to its new home after the month was out.

Whether this rumour was true or not, no one knew, although some officers had tried chatting to the RK900 with hopes that it might confirm those suspicions. The RK900 paid little attention to their enquiries in return. It often simply told them that “the information is unnecessary and is of no relevance to your cases” before nodding politely and leaving. Some people actually got pissy from the android’s unsociable nature; Gavin had caught them grumbling about it in the break room when he tried to refill his coffee once. Eventually though, they learned to leave the android alone and let it do its job. As long as it minded its own business and the rest of the department minded theirs, life continued on as normal.

The RK900’s reclusiveness extended beyond the human officers in the department though. Despite what it had said to Connor on that first day, it did not come to the other android to exchange information or to talk. The only indication that it was aware of Connor’s existence at all was when Gavin caught both their LEDs flashing yellow as one passed the other. He’d overheard Anderson once say that androids could talk to each other in their heads. The RK900 never stopped or even looked at Connor whenever it was at the station.

The good thing about this was that the android never looked or paid any attention to Gavin and this suited him just fine. He was still angry at it for hijacking his robbery case and for apprehending his culprit but since Fowler was giving it its own assignments, at least Gavin was able to carry out his own work and easily pretend that the damn thing didn’t exist in his life.

A week passed by. Gavin worked on a number of his cases, made sure to record them into his own notebook, ignored Connor most of the time but couldn’t help himself from shouldering and taunting the android whenever it stood nearby, gave his share of complaints and grousing to Chris and Chen, accepted the offer for dinner from the pretty female jogger he would sometimes pass by in the park, and spent the rest of his time making phone calls and typing, typing, typing his write-ups.

One afternoon though, when the RK900 had finished reporting to Fowler and was making its way out again, Connor hopped out of its seat and caught the other android before it could leave.

“What is your name?” it asked directly, quickly letting go of the sleeve.

“My designation is ‘Connor’,” said the RK900 in the same cool, matter-of-factly tone.

“It would be confusing for the officers to call us both ‘Connor’,” Connor pointed out. “Perhaps you would like to be called something else.”

“I do not require a name.”

“But the rest of us do.” Connor indicated to Wilson, who was pretending to be busy typing on his terminal but Gavin knew he’d been eavesdropping on the two. “Officer Wilson has compiled a list of possible names for you. Why don’t you take a look and see which one you feel inclined to be called?”

Wilson eagerly held out said list. Yesterday, Gavin had watched him circle around the station, sans Fowler’s office of course, and ask everyone to jot down a name suggestion for the RK900. When someone proposed they make a betting pool out of this, most of the staff decided to pitch in their contributions. Gavin’s own suggestion for a name was “ireallydontgiveafuck”.

The RK900 merely stared at the list before turning to Connor. “I do not require a name,” it stated again. “If you would like to give me one, then you should designate one to me.”

“We can’t give you a name. You have a choice now,” Connor pointed out gently. “You have to pick one for yourself.”

“What benefit would I gain if I were to pick a name for myself?”

“Then that name would be  _yours_ ,” Connor replied emphatically. “It would be the first thing that belongs to you – an important part of yourself.”

For a short second, something changed in the RK900’s usually neutral expression. A twitch between its eyebrows. Then it was gone. “I… this is not a convenient moment to make a decision. Perhaps another time.” It stepped back, nodded politely at Wilson and then left.

“Well, that went well,” Gavin couldn’t help but snort after the brief, disappointed silence from the entire station who had likely just watched the whole scene unfold in front of them with bated breath. “And what the fuck are  _you_  smiling for?” he snapped at Connor, who was indeed smiling and it was freaking Gavin out.

“His deviancy progress is slow but steady,” Connor explained. “That was the first time he showed some genuine uncertainty.”

“Whatever.” Gavin let out an exasperated huff and went back to work.

* * *

It was in the middle of the second week when shit started stirring up and a rumour was finally confirmed.

Gavin had been occupied by the domestic abuse case from last week, compiling all evidence he needed to get the guilty spouse convicted, when Ben Collins suddenly threw down his doughnut onto his desk, scattering crumbs and colourful sprinkles all over his keyboard, got up and marched into Fowler’s office.

Everyone froze in their seats. Collins was normally a quiet, patient man and very rarely raised his voice or showed his temper. To see him, huffing and puffing and irritated, seemed a cause for concern. Even Fowler looked shocked when Collins barged into his office without knocking.

“What the hell is going on  _there_?” Chris wondered aloud, looking stunned but also worried by the man’s reaction.

Gavin let out a low whistle before the corner of his mouth twisted into a sneer. “ _Shit_. Has Ben finally grown some balls and is demanding Fowler to give him the promotion he couldn’t even be fucking bothered to apply for?”

Chris shot him an unimpressed look for that unsavoury remark. “Give it a rest, man,” he tried to advise but gave up when Gavin just laughed at his face.

Not a minute later, Gavin began noticing something odd on his terminal. His workload of active cases was gone. He had about seven of them as of today and he was just finishing up the domestic abuse case when he found out that his workload had become empty. It was empty because all of his cases had been dealt with, all evidence compiled and organised, administrative forms filled and pending for approval to appear in court.

Someone – some fucking  _jackass –_ had hijacked his cases again. Gavin instantly knew who it was. He could not understand  _why_ though.

Unless. Fucking hell, did the  _Captain_ –?

“Son of a fucking bitch.” Gavin jumped out of his chair and began to stride determinedly towards the glass office when Officer Person suddenly left her own desk and joined him en route to the same destination.

“Someone closed all my cases,” she complained as the both of them ascended the short steps. “I want the Captain to explain what the hell is going on.”

“Join the fucking club,” Gavin muttered back, rapping his knuckles on the glass before opening the door. He held it open for Officer Person to enter first.

“Captain. Sorry to bother you but it’s about our cases,” Person said, not sounding sorry at all at the interruption. Collins was seated by Captain Fowler’s desk, his fingers restlessly tapping on the armrests, his whole face pink and looking so much like a strawberry. Gavin took one look at him and broke into a loud snigger.

If there was one thing that Gavin welcomed when he found himself in a state of anger or dissatisfaction, it was that making fun of something made things a little more manageable for him to handle. Nowadays, having to live in a forced co-existence with a race of machines, he often took that opportunity whenever he could. This was one of those times.

“Uh-oh. You’re lookin’ a little red there, Ben.” He poked the man playfully on the back. “Better be on your best behaviour today. You only got, what, a decade with us left until retirement after all. Wouldn’t want you to tarnish your squeaky clean record or spoil that already unambitious career path of yours.”

As always, Collins didn’t rise up to his joshing but merely shook his head. The other two  _did_  however; Fowler shot him a sharp, reproachful look from behind his desk while Person clicked her tongue disapprovingly at him. Gavin merely shrugged off their negative reactions. 

Fowler pinched the bridge of his nose. “I assume you two are here because of the RK900 android, right?” he asked. “I’ve just called him. Told him to drop everything and come down immediately to the station to give us some sort of explanation. He’s on his way here right now.”

Person’s eyes flashed indignantly. “Sir, with all due respect, I am a dedicated and capable officer of this force who has sacrificed time, effort and my own personal safety for this city following the aftermath of the android demonstration. All throughout the months, I’ve worked all sorts of cases and collaborated with all kinds of teams. I’ve done my best to handle anything that is thrown my way. While I see why we might want to use the services of this new android during hard times like these, I would  _really_ appreciate it if he doesn’t take over my own _assignments_.”

“I understand your concern, Person,” said Fowler calmly. “And you are not the first one to come in here and complain to me about that.”

“No, she’s not,” Gavin voiced out brusquely as he crossed his arms. “What the fuck is this about, Captain? You finally getting sick of us meatbags and decide that plastic is the best way to go? Do you not trust us to handle our own fucking jobs?” Gavin was aware that he was still sore about his failure to quickly solve a simple robbery case. The fact that Fowler would re-assign all his cases to this new android felt like a betrayal.  

Fowler’s nostrils flared at the bold accusation that for one second, Gavin thought the man was really going to explode in his seat in anger. Instead, with impressive control over his own temper, the Captain maintained his levelled tone and stare on all three of them and said:

“Collins, Person, Reed – I trust  _all_ of you to do your jobs. These past few months have been trying, but we all pulled through together. While your anger is justified, just so you know, I did  _not_  reassign any of your cases to the RK900. I already gave him his own assignments to complete and as far as I’m concerned, he’s finished them all in a short period of time. In fact, he’s had extra time to do something more than that. I don’t know why the hell he’s now touching your cases. I didn’t give him that authority. We’ll just have to wait until he arrives.”

Not a second after Fowler spoke, the RK900 knocked on the glass door of the office.

“ _You_ ,” Gavin reproached once the android entered and greeted them all with a polite nod. “You think you’re such hot shit, don’t you? No one gave you permission to touch cases that aren’t even yours.”

The RK900 paid him no heed. It averted its full attention onto Captain Fowler and stood still, its hands behind its back as it waited patiently for their superior to speak.

“Have you finished all the assignments I’d given you?” Fowler asked. Gavin was reminded of his own teacher back in school who had asked him the same thing.

“They have all been completed as of yesterday and today, Captain,” the RK900 reported.

“Then who gave you permission to take on other people’s–”

Someone knocked on the glass door loudly, cutting off Fowler’s words. A man slipped into the office and Gavin recognised him as one of their archive managers in charge of police records downstairs. His name was Parker or Paulie or something like that. It was hard to remember because almost all of the staff who worked archives had names starting with “P”. What was this one doing here, interrupting them like this?

“Captain, I’m sorry to interrupt.” Their newcomer was glaring at the RK900 as he said that. “But  _someone_  reorganised the whole archive system. I’ve been getting calls from people saying that they can’t find the records they want. All we know is that the last person who used it before the reorganisation was the RK900 Connor android.”

Fowler swore under his breath and everyone turned to look at the android in question, who remained unfazed by all the unhappy humans surrounding it.

“Tell me there is a good explanation for this,” the Captain said wearily to the RK900. “Why did you take on someone else’s cases and  _why_  did you reorganise the department archive system? Did you forget what I told you yesterday about adding extensive references and hyperlinks into your reports which are of no relevance to the DPD? And that proposal you submitted about sending our current  _and_ limited police force for immediate and extensive re-training in police academies in Japan is  _not_ wanted because it has  _nothing_ to do your job?”

Adding and submitting  _what_  now?

“Excuse me,  _what_?” Person piped up sharply, her cheeks flushing in anger. “What’s this about re-training? Are you saying we’re not  _good_  enough?”

“So it was  _you_ who kept adding these additional reference links to our existing records?” Parker or Paulie the archive manager looked horrified. “You’re not allowed to change  _any_  information in our system without authorisation from us!”

“I do recall our conversation yesterday, Captain,” the RK900 answered Fowler directly without acknowledging the comments from the other two humans. “But as you are aware, I am designed for efficiency. It would be efficient to close as many active cases as possible in order to lighten the workload of the staff. At the same time, the archive system is severely outdated and it would be beneficial if it underwent some reorganisation.”

“You  _don’t_  have that authority!” Parker or Paulie fumed. “Do you know how much time it’ll take us to put things back to the way they were?”

“I am handling my cases fine,” chimed in Officer Person. “I don’t appreciate it when someone comes in and decides to do  _my_  job which I am perfectly  _capable_ of doing!”

“It is  _not_  polite to go through my files, RK900,” Collins finally decided to add, at last revealing the reason why he was here in the first place. He wasn’t yelling like Gavin had expected him to but his tone had taken on a hard and reprimanding edge. “Some of my cases are confidential and you need the verification of a number of people to gain access to them. You  _cannot_  do as you like.”

Gavin would have liked to pitch in his share of complaints as he had many, but there was just something so irresistibly  _delightful_ about watching an android get yelled at by its human superiors. He felt like a naughty kid watching another kid get told off for what they had done and he felt no shame for it. No shame.

Once more, someone knocked on the glass door.

“For fuck’s sake, what  _now_?” Fowler barked as everyone turned to look at the latest visitor. It was Connor. He slid into the office and Fowler’s space became crowded now that it was occupied by so many bodies.

Connor walked over to the RK900 before glancing briefly at Fowler. “Captain, I just need a second with him.”

Without waiting for an answer, Connor took the other android’s hand. They interfaced, their skin fading into the smooth porcelain white. The office occupants were quiet as they watched the exchange.

“It’s not his fault, Captain,” Connor defended after it pulled its hand away. “Since he’s completed all of his assignments, there was nothing for him to do. His programme would have instructed him to seek out any available  _and_  probable tasks that he could perform, whether they existed or not. This will likely include any pending cases or issues we are not dealing with right now such as the archive rearrangement. I believe he was only trying to help us out in terms of our efficiency as an organisation.”

“Maybe we don’t need any of his help,” grumbled Parker or Paulie as the man crossed his arms. “We had a workable system. He had to go and fuck it up.”

“Again, it isn’t his fault that he was programmed to be independent and to take initiative when the situation calls for it.” Connor then turned back to the Captain. “I recommend that new cases be assigned to the RK900 to keep him occupied.”

“That’s the thing,” huffed the Captain as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose again. “There  _are_ no new cases left. If I hand the pending ones to him, then my officers won’t have anything to work with.”

“Is that not a good thing?”

Fowler shot a sharp look at Connor in response to that question. Then he turned to the rest of his human staff.

“You all might have heard the rumour about the real reason this android is here,” he began in a grim tone. “It’s because he  _isn’t_ supposed to be. Cyberlife planned to give him to the FBI but for whatever reason, the FBI aren’t ready to receive him. He’s got nowhere to go and Cyberlife called in a favour and asked that we keep him here until the month is up, provided we go along with the excuse that he is using this opportunity to gain some field experience.”

His focus then returned to Connor. “I also agreed to let him help us only when we  _need_  the extra help. What we  _don’t_ want, Connor, is for him to do what he  _likes_ , including doing  _all_  our jobs.”

Gavin rolled his eyes at this confession. So, the truth was out – Connor’s shiny new twin turned out to be only baggage for the DPD to store. In order to make it look like there was a purpose for its stay here, Fowler had to give it extra work. The problem was that while it was here, the android was making things much more complicated than it should be.

“It would be more efficient this way, Captain,” the RK900 suddenly spoke following Fowler’s words and everyone turned to look at it. “Why would you unnecessarily expend the efforts of many officers when one android is capable of performing all?”

“ _Excuse_  me?” Person looked insulted.

“ _No_  one fucking asked you for your opinion!” Gavin snapped at the android, also outraged by its boldness for pointing out its obvious superiority over humans. He glanced at Fowler, hoping that the RK900’s remark could result in some action from the Captain, preferably one that involved sending this piece of fucking plastic back to where it came from, or even better – putting this thing down for good.

He was disappointed in the end though.

“You.” Fowler levelled a stern finger at the RK900. “I’ve had too many complaints about you from several people already. The fact that you decide to do what you like and take on  _my_  officers’ cases today is the last straw. From here on out, you will be on standby until we need you. That means you are not allowed to do anything during this time period. You are not to access any of our archives without authorised permission, you are not allowed to touch anyone else’s assignment, you are not allowed to do  _anything_ unless we assign a specific task to you personally. Is that clear?”

For a second, the RK900’s LED pulsed yellow before circling back into blue. “Yes, Captain.”

“But first, you restore the archive system. After that, you’re grounded until further notice.”

“Understood.”

“Good. Everyone else happy with this arrangement?”

“I’m not,” Gavin said quietly.

Fowler ignored him. “Alright. Now get the fuck out of my office, all of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the awkward moment when you are too efficient that you cause problems for everyone else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for 100 kudos for Chapter 1.  
> Much appreciation and gratitude for your positive comments.  
> A special shoutout to @Imiaslavie for being another source of inspiration for this series.

To Gavin, the RK900 on active assignment made this whole situation somewhat tolerable seeing that it spent more time outside of the station than in it. Now that the android was on standby until further notice, this new arrangement seriously tested that tolerance.

Gavin simply hated looking at it. The android was just as restless as Connor. Despite being provided with a desk of its own for its period on standby, seeing that it had nothing to do, the RK900 took to exploring the office instead. It patrolled up and down the corridors, past the holding cells, inspected the android charging stations, spent time in the empty meeting rooms doing who-the-fuck-knows-what and lingered for whatever reason in the break room. When that was all done, it decided to walk around the staff desks, examining the heaped boxes of half-eaten doughnuts and stained coffee mugs, the tablets, terminals and stationary items, Anderson’s nightmare of a desk and finally, Connor’s single pot of cactus and its nodding bobble-head dog.

Gavin noticed that the RK900 tended to walk past his desk the most, its grey eyes inspecting his coffee mug, his pens, parking card and his notebook. Every time it did so, Gavin glared at it with as much hostility as he could muster.

Eventually, someone was bound to feel bad about Fowler having the RK900 grounded. The first person to do so was Chris.

“Hey Connor?”

Connor looked up from its terminal. At the same time, the RK900 raised its head in attention.

Chris let out a laugh. “Ah, sorry. Not you, Connor. Big Connor. RK900.”

The RK900, who had been reading today’s magazine by the counter, stared at Chris, waiting. Damn thing didn’t even bother acknowledging the address.

“You think you could help me out for a second?” Chris waved his tablet in the air. “I’m having trouble figuring this case out.”

“If you wanted some help, you _could_ just ask Connor who actually _works_ here and is _not_ a piece of baggage for us to keep,” Gavin remarked and refused to look at the RK900 as it passed by. He felt its eyes roaming over the items on his desk again. For fuck’s sake.

“Nah. Connor’s busy with his own case right now,” Chris said. “You don’t mind, do you, Connor?”

Connor smiled and shook its head. “Not at all.”

Gavin scoffed and turned his chair around so that his back was to Chris’s desk. He blatantly ignored both human and android voices as he continued on with his work.

When Gavin came back from lunch later that day, he found the RK900 standing by his desk, examining his things again.

“The fuck do you want?” he snapped as he approached the android.

The RK900 averted its gaze from Gavin’s notebook – he’d been stupid enough to forget to take it with him to lunch – before looking down at him.

The android was tall. Really tall. Gavin had to lean his head back to meet its eyes. He glared up at it. “I _said,_ what the fuck do you _want?”_

“I do not require anything, Detective Reed,” said the RK900.

“Then stay the hell away from me and my shit.” Gavin walked past it but on the last second, tried to ram his shoulder against the android’s own – and ended up bouncing backwards instead. A jolt of pain shot up his shoulder. Fucking hell, this thing was built like a solid brick wall.

The RK900 did not apologise or say anything to Gavin, merely nodding at him politely before walking away. Gavin rubbed at his sore shoulder, muttering, “plastic prick” under his breath as he sat down.

Sometime later, the RK900 stopped by Connor’s desk and offered it its hand. Connor looked surprised by the spontaneous request. This was the first time the newer model decided to approach its predecessor.

Gavin had his feet propped on top of his desk – a sitting position he often favoured – but the disadvantage of this was that he had a full view of the other side of the room. He deliberately avoided looking at the two Connor androids as they began to interface and went to scribble something viciously into the notebook on his lap.

“You are overwhelmed by data.” Connor’s voice carried across the room to reach Gavin. “And you do not seem to know what to do with it.”

“It is not relevant to any assignments or tasks. It is unusable.” The RK900’s voice was exactly the same as Connor’s but what clearly differentiated between the two was that the newer model lacked the softness and emotion that their Connor already mastered. “I am built to gather and process data. I have been doing this all day because it is in my programming. However, with no current assignment at hand–”

“You’re bored.” Connor sounded amused.

There was a pregnant pause. “I… do not understand.”

“You need something to occupy your time while you’re on standby. Here, try this.” Gavin heard the _chink_ of a coin as it was tossed into the air.

“ _Seriously,_ Connor?” It was Anderson, sounding tired. “Fuck, I’m wearing my headphones for this. Just know that I’m purposely ignoring you until you put that coin away.”

Gavin glanced up for a second and caught Connor shooting a soft, warm smile at Anderson before returning its attention to the RK900. 

The next two minutes was filled with nothing but the _chink whoosh smack chink whoosh smack_ of the coin spinning in the air and landing on artificial skin. Eventually–

“I do not understand what this action will accomplish.”

“If you want to be technical about it, it can help sharpen your coordination.”

“It is irrelevant. And aimless. I’d rather not continue.”

“Alright. Perhaps you’d like to try something else? Pick up a hobby that the humans do. Whatever you feel inclined towards, just try it out.”

“I do not understand the concept of a hobby.”

“It’s an activity you carry out during your leisure time. Or in this case, an activity to occupy yourself with while you’re on standby. Maybe you could start on a personal project. Something that involves the utilisation of your primary functions but will have no relevancy to any active task.”

“How will this achieve anything?”

Connor’s voice sounded amused again. “Do you _want_ to stay idle?”

" _No._ " A pause filled with surprise. “Very well.”

When Gavin left the station that evening, he found the RK900 standing still in the middle of the corridor leading to the exit. It was poised stiffly over something in its hand – a notebook, not too dissimilar to Gavin’s own – and was recording something down in its pages. No part of the android moved aside from its writing hand and the simulated breathing of its chest. The RK900 paid him no attention as he walked past it.

Gavin shook his head, scoffing in disbelief. Fucking androids.

* * *

“Detective Reed.”

Gavin lifted his head and fixed the too-tall android currently hovering over his desk an irritated scowl.

The RK900 wordlessly offered him its notebook.

Gavin stared at the item like it had personally offended him.

“ _What._ ”

“It is a notebook,” the RK900 described helpfully, misinterpreting his exclamation.

“I _know_ it’s a fucking notebook. What do you want me to do with it?” Gavin could easily think of something he could do with it. He could dump it in the bin and that would end this stupid interaction between them.

“Normally, notebooks have information written into them that can be read, do they not?”

“Don’t you try to be smart with me, plastic-head,” Gavin growled. His inclination to grab the notebook and throw it into the bin changed to one that involved hurling the fucking thing at the android’s face instead.

A crease appeared in between the RK900’s eyebrows and its LED pulsed yellow. A second later, its face returned to its smooth, neutral expression.

“I apologise, Detective. I hadn’t been clear with my request. Would you like to examine its contents?”

Gavin eyed the offered item again. It was a standard dark blue DPD issued spiral-bound notebook. The android must have acquired one from requisitions.

Against his better nature, he took it, careful not to touch the android’s hand as he did so. He flipped through the pages.

_LIEUTENANT ANDERSON, HENRY “HANK”_

_DATE OF BIRTH: SEPTEMBER 6, 1985 (AGE 53)_

_DESK SCANNING RESULTS…_

Under that was an extensive list of all the shit Anderson kept on his desk followed by a short interpretation of what they represented of the detective. As Gavin skimmed the text, he realised that the RK900 was compiling a profile on Anderson, like how an FBI agent would put together a profile for a criminal based on the man’s possessions, observable behaviour and speech patterns. Its handwriting, like all androids, was in large and neat Cyberlife Sans font, looking more like it came out of a printer than a writing hand. Gavin turned the next few pages and found detailed profiles of his other colleagues – Ben Collins, Tina Chen, Chris Miller, even Connor, and then his eyes found his own name on a page:

_DETECTIVE REED, GAVIN._

_DATE OF BIRTH: OCTOBER 7, 2002 (AGE 36)_

_DESK SCANNING RESULTS…_

_NOTEBOOK, 150 x 210 MM, SOFT & DURABLE OLIVE GREEN COVER WITH VERTICAL ELASTIC BAND, PLAIN PAPER, IVORY COLOURED, MADE FROM ECO-FRIENDLY RECYCLED MATERIALS…_

_TRACES OF CAT FUR AROUND ANKLES OF TROUSER LEGS … ANALYSIS RESULTS: FEMALE ADULT CAT, FOUR KITTENS…_

_MUG, CERAMIC, CREAM COLOURED, LIGHTLY STAINED WITH COFFEE, FINGERPRINT AND SALIVA ANALYSIS REVEAL 19% SHARED DNA (MATERNAL SIDE) WITH_ –

Gavin slammed the notebook shut and looked up to send the android the most venomous glare he could muster.

“What the fuck is this?” he demanded, his voice shaking with barely concealed rage.

“My personal project, Detective,” the RK900 replied. “I have decided to build profiles on the officers here at the Detroit Police Department. It is to occupy my time while I wait on standby.”

“Do you even fucking _know_ what will happen if someone got a hold of this?” Gavin absent-mindedly rubbed at the scar on his nose. The words “ _19% SHARED DNA_ ” flashed across his mind. He quickly stifled the image in his head.

“I understand the risks of building these profiles but I assure you that your information will remain confidential and inaccessible to any human or machine. I plan to destroy the notebook thoroughly once it becomes of no use.”

“I say you destroy it now. You could put us all in danger, you know that? Fucking hell, Big and Stupid Connor, you’re a fucking idiot. You’ve been nothing but unnecessary _baggage_ since you got here.”

The crease between its eyebrows deepened into a furrow. This time, its LED blinked red before circling back to yellow and then blue.

“I… did not intend to be or cause any inconvenience for the department, Detective. I had only aimed to facilitate efficiency. I was unaware that my attempts to do so have led to some dissatisfaction from others. This has led to the conclusion that I have made some kind of error. For that, I apologise.”

“You don’t even know the _meaning_ of apologise.”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Apologise, verb, to express regret for something that one has done–”

“Fuck’s sake, _save_ it.” Gavin yanked open his drawer and tossed the android’s notebook into it before snapping it shut. “I’m throwing this into the incinerator later. No need to thank me for fixing _your_ fuck-up like I do everyone else’s.”

The RK900 was staring hard at where Gavin had stashed its notebook. If he didn’t know better, he would say that the android seemed upset that its possession had been confiscated.

“I understand,” conceded the RK900. Gavin expected it to leave now that this was settled but the android continued to stand there by his desk.

“What _now_?” Gavin was getting tired of talking to this piece of plastic. Interacting with it drained his energy.

“I would like to examine your notebook, Detective Reed.”

Gavin would like the damn thing to leave him alone. He took a couple of deep breaths to compose himself before he tilted his chin up and glowered at the android.

“ _No_.”

The furrowed brow was back. “Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

“I allowed you to read my notebook.”

“You _gave_ it to me willingly.”

“Nevertheless, I still shared it with you.”

Gavin made a noise of disbelief. “What _are_ you? A fucking kid? Just because you decide to show me your shit, doesn’t mean I’m obliged to show you mine.”

The RK900’s LED circled yellow again. It blinked down at Gavin like it was assessing their current situation, trying to think of a better approach to convince him.

“According to research, engaging in the positive sharing of feelings, knowledge and possessions with each other can facilitate the relationship of trust, which, in most cases flows back and helps us feel secure and happy–”

“Fuck _off,_ plastic-head.” Gavin turned back to his terminal.

“Perhaps if you allow me access to your notebook, Detective, I may be able to study your examples in order to avoid making errors in the future–”

“Not interested. Now go. _Away_.”

A pause this time. Gavin thought he’d finally won and that the android could finally leave him alone. However, it spoke again in a surprisingly quiet voice:

“I only started writing in a notebook because of you, Detective Reed.”

Gavin’s eyes flicked upwards to meet the RK900’s. They were piercing as always but this time, they held a startling sincerity and determination.

“I was fascinated by your notebook, by you writing in it so habitually. You keep it on your person and hold it close to you like it is something of great value. No one else in the department does this. I conclude that this makes you unique. And… intriguing.”

Gavin felt something within him quieten down. “So, what? You see me writing in this as ‘intriguing’ and you decide to copy my habits?”

“You make it look like it is an appealing practice to pursue. So I felt somewhat… inclined to imitate it.”

Great. An android decided to follow his example because it thought he looked fucking _cool_ writing in a notebook. Gavin let out a snort of laughter, hardly believing it because this behaviour right here was all too fucking _familiar_. “Fucking hell, plastic-head. You’re such a _child_.”

A big, dumb child. The android waited for his response, its LED continuing to pulse yellow on its temple. Its silence radiated a hope for a positive answer.

It was pathetic.

Gavin huffed out a resigned sigh and silently handed the RK900 his notebook.

“If you show that to anyone, I am going to end you. I want that back in five minutes, you hear? Now, _shoo_.”

The RK900 took the notebook carefully in both hands like it was made of glass, gave Gavin its trademark polite nod, and finally stepped away from the desk. Gavin was relieved to get some peace at last.

Exactly five minutes later, the RK900 returned.

“Detective,” it called, holding Gavin’s notebook in its hands.

Gavin reached over his desk and snatched the notebook back without looking at the android. He then stuffed it into the inner pocket of his jacket before resuming his write-up.

“Detective,” the RK900 called again in the same cool, polite tone.

Gavin lifted his head and glared up at it.

“I would like to express my evaluation regarding your notebook,” proposed the RK900.

“I’m _busy,_ ” Gavin grated out through gritted teeth.

“Understood. I would come to you again once your assignment is completed.” It then paused as if an idea occurred to it. “Although it would be efficient and timesaving if you would allow me to assist you instead. I would be able to complete all tasks in a much shorter time span than any human, including yourself. That way, I may begin my report to you shortly.”

This was one of the things Gavin hated about androids – the casual way they would mention just how superior and better they were to humans without purposely being insulting. Gavin decided he had enough of this plastic son of a bitch for today.

Without another word, he shut off his terminal, gathered up his belongings and jacket, got out of his seat and headed towards the exit.

The RK900 was instantly by his side, the stride of its long legs making it easy to catch up to him.

“Detective, where are you going?”

“Home.”

“The time is still 1654 hours. This is considered still early for you to leave work.”

“I don’t care.”

“Detective Reed–”

“ _Why_ are you following me? Look, if you want to talk, talk to me tomorrow. I’m fucking _sick_ of looking at your dumb face.”

“I don’t see how my appearance can result in a deterioration of your physical health.”

“Fuck _off,_ you plastic prick.”

Gavin was only able to shake the RK900 off once he ducked into his car and sped away. He would have to finish all his work at home. Right now though, he had ten minutes of this autonomous drive to snatch a quick, uninterrupted nap.

* * *

To his extreme displeasure, his personal headache returned the next morning. It caught up and managed to corner him while he was in the middle of filling up his first mug of coffee.

“Good morning, Detective Reed,” greeted the RK900.

Gavin kept his eyes on the coffee machine. It was too early for this shit and he wasn’t even fully awake yet. “If I ignore it, maybe it’ll go away,” he muttered under his breath.

“You still exhibit signs of sleep deprivation, Detective, and this has been ongoing for quite a while,” the RK900 pointed out. “It is also obvious that you have not slept the advised number of hours despite your early departure from the station yesterday.”

“Just ignore it. Just ignore it.” Gavin knew his muttering was futile. The fucking android couldn’t take a hint.

“Ongoing sleep deficiency can negatively affect your cognition, concentration, productivity and performance. You may also be prone to short sleep latencies in which you are likely to fall asleep more easily if sitting in a dark or relaxed environment such as a movie theatre or during a car drive. Overall, this detrimental condition will result in inefficiency, ineffectiveness as well as inconvenience for you and your work performance.”

Gavin finally spun around to face the android and recoiled a little when he found it standing right behind him. “Ugh. What do you _want_ from me?”

“I require a bit of your time, Detective,” the RK900 said plainly. “I would like to give you my report on your notebook.”

Gavin would have liked to throw the contents of his coffee at the plastic prick’s stupid face but he suspected that even that would not make it leave him alone. Besides, he desperately needed to drink his coffee right now in order to be able to face the rest of the day.

“Fucking fine,” he conceded, too tired to argue, and stepped past the RK900 to head to one of the break room’s standing tables. The android followed suit. Gavin then rested his elbows on the table, slumping his whole weight against it, and took a careful sip of the coffee, letting the warm steam waft all over his face and the rich bitter taste wash over his mouth.

The RK900 stood by the table for a moment, watching him, before it eventually rested its own elbows on the table surface and tried to lean its weight onto its arms the same way Gavin was doing. The effort made the stance look awfully stiff and awkward. It was obvious that the android did not know how to appear naturally relaxed.

“I would like to comment on the physical details of your notebook first,” it began before launching into a fully detailed description of the colour, size, dimensions, material, design and manufacture of the notebook, listing off each feature in such a dull, technical way that Gavin became immediately lost. After about a minute of nothing but the android prattling on and on about the most unnecessary things, he finally cut in.

“Is there a _point_ to all of this?” he enquired, sipping another mouthful of coffee while idly drumming his fingers on the table. He usually required two full mugs to get himself going so he still had a long way to go.

“I am getting there, Detective,” insisted the RK900. “I will now move on to the analysis of your handwriting, which I find may be indicative of your personality. The large letters and the large spaces between your words may signify a big and outgoing personality, an inclination towards freedom and independence, but also some trouble with connecting to others. Your closely dotted ‘i’s suggest an organised and detail-oriented mind, your closed ‘o’s insinuate an introverted nature and a tendency to keep to yourself, while your narrow ‘e’s indicate that you are sceptical and uninfluenced by emotion. I’ve observed that you write with your right hand, yet your writing occasionally slants to the left, which implies a reserved and introspective nature. Your sentences also tend to slant downwards, which suggest your pessimistic mood.”

“Right. Fascinating,” Gavin deadpanned, still drumming his fingers on the table, although this time the pace became rapid and impatient. He was sceptical about handwriting analysis in general even though quite a few of the RK900’s deductions sounded pretty accurate.

“The manner in which you’d compiled your notes is interesting,” continued the android. “At first glance, a human would not be able to comprehend the contents due to the unorthodox way you write down and layout your annotations. Thus, the content appears chaotic and unintelligible in the beginning. However, after some careful analysis and comparisons with outside references, I was able to decipher the words and come to understand the method you have used to organise these notes.”

“I had to be careful, obviously,” Gavin explained offhandedly. “Wouldn’t want any jackass to come across my shit and be able to read it so easily.”

“Indeed. That was clever of you.” It was strange to be complimented by an android who had superior processing abilities and Gavin didn’t know what to feel about it. “The element which I found to be most interesting is the way in which you interpret evidence, formulate hypotheses and ultimately, synthesize all the data gathered to generate a solid conclusion. It really emphasises the dissimilarity in the way humans and androids process information. Although humans are slower, this does not discount the way their thought processes are extremely complex and fascinating.”

All the sophisticated words that the RK900 was using flew right over Gavin’s head. He shook it a little, finding his mind still fuzzy. The caffeine in his coffee hadn’t kicked in yet. “Meaning?” he found himself prompting.

The RK900’s head tilted to the side a little, the same way Connor’s did when it was searching for an appropriate response. Then, without warning, it reached across the space between them and touched the front of Gavin’s jacket, where his notebook sat tucked into the inner pocket, right over his heart.

Gavin froze, his breath hitching.

“This notebook represents the intricate workings of your human mind, Detective Reed,” the RK900 said, its grey eyes boring into his. “I now understand why you value it so much. You are holding an important part of yourself in your hands.”

The physical contact had been sudden and unexpected enough that it took Gavin a while to react. He jerked violently away from the table, as if burned by flame, and stared up at the android in disgust. His heart was hammering in his chest. He was more awake now thanks to that incident than from his coffee.

“Don’t touch me.” He held up a warning finger at the RK900, who pulled back its hand once Gavin moved away. “Don’t you _ever_ fucking touch me, you hear?”

The RK900 furrowed its brow. “I am certain I did not harm you in any way. There was barely any pressure from that physical contact.”

“Well, _clearly_ you’ve never heard of personal boundaries before, plastic-head,” Gavin snarled before he grabbed his mug of half-finished coffee. He then shot an irritable glance at the too-tall android. “Are we _done_ here?”

“Well, actually, I have a request for you, Detective.” The RK900’s face brightened a little with childish enthusiasm now that it was finally able to reveal its real motive. The expression reminded Gavin of a kid gearing up to negotiate with their parent about their grand scheme to obtain their most wanted toy.

“It’s always something more with you, isn’t it?” Gavin muttered unhappily. “What exactly do you want from me _now_?”

“I would like to be your investigative partner.”

Gavin closed his eyes, hardly believing his ears. About ten seconds passed before he was able to respond. “Fuck no.” He turned and left the break room.

“There are many benefits to a police partnership as you may already know, Detective,” the RK900 tried to reason and then took to following him back to his desk. “One of which is the division of workload and the combination of unique detecting approaches to cover every angle of the–”

“I don’t want your fucking help _._ ”

“Let me rephrase that. Although it would be more efficient if I were to take on any of your cases myself to save time and effort on your part, my actual real intention as your investigative partner is to merely observe your methods and study the way you think in real time.”

“Why the fuck do you want to _study_ me?” Gavin exclaimed like it was the most outrageous thing he had heard. Which, frankly, it was.

“Your notebook was very insightful. And it captured my interest. It is compelling me to investigate further despite it being irrelevant to any mission in this station. I require… I would _like_ to pursue it. This _eagerness_ is… a new feeling.” The RK900’s voice sounded pensive.

“That’s too bad, tin can,” Gavin remarked as he settled down in his chair and switched on his terminal. “I don’t want a fucking android hovering behind me while I’m working a case. If you want to play scientist, then join the freak team on the other side of the room. In case you didn’t notice, one of them looks exactly like you so you’ll fit right in. Now that we’re _done_ here, why don’t you get the hell out of my sight?”

The android did not move from its place in front of Gavin’s desk. It merely folded its arms behind its back, the stance cool and composed. “That is impossible, Detective. The only subject of study that I am focused on is you.”

For fuck’s sake. Gavin stood up and walked around his desk so that he was face-to-face with the RK900, straining his neck upwards to meet its gaze.

“What exactly _is_ your problem?” he confronted, feeling a sudden impulse for violence. “If you have a problem with me, then we can take it out back. Settle this once and for all like real men.”

The RK900’s eyes narrowed a little at the challenge. “I do not _have_ any problem, Detective. Nor do I intend to initiate any brawls with you. I simply wish to study the way your mind works on a case.”

“I call bullshit. Now why don’t you stay out of my _way_ –” Gavin had planned to catch the android off-guard, the same way he did with Connor back in the break room so many months ago, with a swift punch to the stomach where the thirium pump regulator was located. However, his swinging fist was met with the RK900’s strong hand gripping over his knuckles, stopping him from making any contact.

Gavin’s anger rose from the block. “You son of a bitch!” He ripped his arm back so that he could swing it again, this time aiming for the stupid thing’s plastic face.

The RK900 dodged away smoothly, the movement quick and slick like a snake’s. Gavin followed up his misses with an elbow strike that was easily blocked by the android’s arm as it held it up to shield its body. His rage continued to rise like a burning pressure in his chest as he let out a frustrated growl and aimed a kick at its hip.

His foot missed, brushing past the intended target, and before he could pull back, the android suddenly caught hold of the underside of his knee.

“Fucking android!” Gavin spat, outraged by its defiance. He thrashed wildly, trying to wrench his leg back, but the RK900’s grip was ironclad and solid and his struggles only led him to lose his balance. He fumbled and fell forward, arms flailing and eventually finding purchase on the lapels of the RK900’s pristine white and black jacket. The next thing he knew, he was flush against the android, their chests and hips pressed together, and the RK900’s fingers curled around his inner calf.

This was too close. Too close.  _Way_ too _close._

“Let go, let go, let _go_!” Gavin squirmed in the android’s hold like a frenzied cat wanting to escape a tub full of cold water. The android obliged and Gavin stumbled back from it, unceremoniously bumping against his desk and causing it to wobble. He felt his face burning hot and the parts where the RK900’s body had touched his own tingled unpleasantly.

“I did not intend to cause you any harm or distress, Detective,” the RK900 informed him calmly. Unlike Gavin, the android was infuriatingly poised and unruffled from the incident. “But I would remind you that skirmishes between co-workers may result in disciplinary action, depending on the degree of the misconduct.”

At this, Gavin saw nothing but red. “I’ll show _you_ disciplinary fucking action, you plastic piece of shit, when I set you and your fucking _face_ on fire and melt you into a GODDAMN _BOTTLE_!”

The whole station went deadly quiet.

Gavin realised his mistake when he felt his whole face grow hot with mortification. He dared not to look at anyone in particular but he could feel his skin crawling from the many judgmental and disapproving stares on him, so much so that he almost faltered from the weight of it. The last thing he wanted was to be accused of assaulting an android so soon after having the damn machines recognised as a legitimate people.

He turned around and quickly collected his phone and tablet, his car keys and pen. Ignoring the half-finished mug of coffee on the desk, he shot a final glare at the RK900, who continued to observe him quietly as he fumbled to escape the area with whatever dignity he had left.

“You follow me and I won’t hesitate to run you over.” Gavin’s voice came out in a mutter as he paused by the android on his way to the exit. “I don’t care that you’re supposed to be for the FBI. Nobody fucking _wants_ you here.”

He left and for once, was surprised when the RK900 did not follow after him.

* * *

Gavin was determined to spend the entire day out on the field, working on his cases through his tablet without returning to the station. However, by three in the afternoon, Captain Fowler left him a message instructing him to come down to his office immediately.

There were either two things that would make Fowler interrupt him in the middle of working a case while he was outside: first, an urgent and serious matter had arisen that required immediate attention and the second, Gavin had fucked up in some way and he was going to get his head bitten off as a result.

When he knocked on the glass door to Fowler’s office and let himself in, the first thing he saw was the RK900, tucked against the wall and standing in attention with its arms folded behind its back.

He let out a frustrated groan, throwing his hands up. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he demanded, momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to address the Captain first before anyone else.

The RK900 nodded at him. “I have made a request. The Captain will explain it to you.”

“ _What_?” Gavin whipped his head around and stared at Fowler, who sat at his desk, stiff and scowling as always, except that he looked extra pissed right now. Gavin swore he could make out a vein pulsing in the man’s temple. “What is it _talking_ about, Fowler?”

“That’s _Captain_ Fowler to you, Reed,” Fowler snapped, looking like he was about to burst into a long and very loud shouting session. However, the man visibly composed himself and threaded his fingers together, resting them on top of his cluttered desk. He stared at Gavin grimly.

“Which case are you working on now, Reed?” he enquired.

Gavin narrowed his eyes warily. “The missing person’s case. A female. Heather Mills. Disappeared two nights ago.”

He watched Fowler’s eyes flick towards something behind him, the RK900 standing in the corner. “For the Mills case, you are to work with the RK900 android as your partner.”

Gavin let out a bark of laughter. “Okay, okay. Ha-ha, Captain. Very funny. Joke’s on me. Now could you tell me exactly why the fuck I’m _really_ here?”

Fowler said nothing. Gavin felt his stomach drop. “ _Shit_.”

If the Captain hadn’t been Gavin’s superior, he would have grabbed onto the nearest thing he could reach and thrown it at his face. As it so happened, this wasn’t the case. Gavin wondered if he could still grab onto something and hurl it at the RK900 instead.

The fucking android would probably just catch it easily in mid-air.

“Sir, I don’t _need_ a partner,” Gavin pointed out emphatically. “And I certainly don’t need a fucking _android_.”

“I don’t _care_ what you need, Reed. I just want _him_ out of my office.” The explanation for this decision threw Gavin completely off. “He’s been hounding me all fucking day, asking that I order him to work with you. I’ve told him _no_ but he won’t _leave._ ”

Gavin spluttered, outraged at what he was hearing. “Can’t you _assign_ it to someone else who’s working a case? Why _me_?”

“I don’t fucking know. He wants _you_ specifically.”

“I have already explained my reasons as to why I would like to work with Detective Reed,” the RK900 piped up helpfully from its corner in Fowler’s office and Gavin was horrified. “If you could recall, it is because–”

“ _Shut up_!” He and Fowler barked at the android in unison.

“Reed.” Fowler attempted to gain control of this crazy situation. “Just for this _one_ case, you take him with you. Because I really don’t have time for this.”

“And _I_ really don’t have time for this either!” Gavin countered hotly.

“ _Detective_ Reed. As your _Captain,_ I am _ordering_ you to partner up with this android for the Mills case.” Gavin shut his mouth with an audible snap at Fowler’s dangerously low tone. “Once the case is over, he will leave you alone. Once the month is up, he will leave the DPD and be transferred to the FBI as was planned. Are we clear?”

Gavin clenched his jaw. He was trying very hard not to scream at Fowler’s face.

“Are we _clear,_ Detective?” Fowler’s voice was cold steel.

“Yes sir.”

Gavin left the station without so much as a glance at his colleagues, whose eyes followed him as he exited Fowler’s office with the RK900 trailing after him. Once he reached his car, he spun around to face his unwanted shadow and held up a finger to its face.

“You,” he addressed the android. “You don’t touch anything. You don’t say anything. You don’t _do_ anything. Alright? If you really just want to watch me work, then _fine._ But I expect you to stay the fuck out of my way.”

“Understood, Detective,” said the RK900.

Gavin let out a deep, exasperated sigh and reached for the car door.

“Before we go–” the android began.

“Just get in the fucking car, asshole,” Gavin snapped, slipping into the driver’s seat and slamming the door shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hey, fowler just assigned rk900 as gavin's partner, like it should be in every reed900 fic hurray
> 
> Actual notes:
> 
> \- What happens if you put a super advanced machine on standby? He never really stops processing. So he gets bored. Is the super advanced machine interested in anything outside of its programming / assigned tasks? Nope. He doesn't care about anything or anyone. How do you get him interested in the main character and become involved in his life? Introduce something that catches his interest. Thus, Gavin's notebook is the key to everything.
> 
> \- How should an android slowly undergoing deviancy act? How about... like a child? Because it's hilarious and interesting. The notebook sharing scene between Gavin and RK900 is one of my favourite scenes to write because I love the idea of an android just impulsively sharing his notebook with the one who inspired him in the first place and then later on expects some reciprocation in that sharing. Think of it as being similar to when a child randomly comes up to you to show you their drawing. 
> 
> \- "19% SHARED DNA (MATERNAL SIDE) WITH-" ...hm.
> 
> \- "This notebook represents the intricate workings of your human mind, Detective Reed... I now understand why you value it so much. You are holding an important part of yourself in your hands." Another one of my favourite lines.
> 
> \- that awkward moment when you try to brawl with an android and end up falling onto him, with certain body parts touching.
> 
> \- I've seen way too many fics where it always begins with Fowler calling Gavin into his office and assigning him to the RK900 and Gavin's reaction to this arrangement is explosive anger and disbelief. For my rendition, I thought - no, I need to think up something different this time. So here goes - Fowler assigning RK900 to Gavin just to get him out of his office so that the android can stop pestering him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for 200+ kudos for Chapter 2.  
> Much, MUCH appreciation and gratitude for your positive feedback.  
> Thank you @Imiaslavie for your long and thoughtful comments. I had a great time replying to them.

The missing person’s full name was Heather Margaret Mills, aged 21, and a postgraduate student from Detroit University. She was last seen two nights ago on Wednesday, walking from the university campus library to her rented apartment but never did arrive. She was only reported missing after her flatmate returned from a trip out of state and received a text message from Mills on the night of her disappearance stating that she was going away for a while and that her flatmate should not worry about her.

What set off said flatmate’s alarm bells was that this was just highly unusual behaviour from Mills. The young woman was shy and reserved by nature and was not the sort to just go up and leave without informing a close friend or family member a named destination and an approximate time of when she would return home.

Gavin had already interviewed the flatmate and also met the university library staff who had seen Mills on the night she went missing. The next stage of the investigation was to follow the route in which she had walked and try to determine whether any surveillance cameras or patrol drones might have captured footage of the woman. From there, Gavin would try to reconstruct the supposed pathway she took and identify at which point of her course she deviated away from.

He and the RK900 were there now, walking alongside each other down the street. Gavin had tried to increase his pace, not wanting the android to match his steps, but its longer legs and wider stride gave it an advantage. As promised, the RK900 was silent as it observed Gavin studying his tablet in his hands. He had a map of the route that Mills would have taken, starting from the entrance of the campus library all the way to her flat. The entire walk from library to the flat would normally take her at most ten minutes.

Mills had left the library at exactly 2324 hours according to the library CCTV on the night of the disappearance. About seven minutes later, at 2331 hours, Mills’s text message to her flat mate about her uncharacteristic decision to go away was sent but was only read by the flatmate a couple of hours later. Gavin needed to find out at what point during Mills’s route this text message was sent.

Wanting to follow up on this lead, Gavin submitted a request to access the security footage for the two drones assigned to survey the route with a few taps onto his tablet screen. He then put away the device for the moment and extracted his notebook.

He scribbled down the latest details of his findings. Once he was done, he began reviewing the information, flipping between one page and the next and then tapping on specific keywords on the paper with his pen whilst musing upon the situation. About ten seconds in, he became increasingly aware and self-conscious of being stared at by the RK900. Another ten seconds passed and he realised he was becoming far too uncomfortable to concentrate on anything anymore. Annoyed, he glanced at the android.

The RK900 was scrutinizing him with an almost riveted intensity, its grey eyes roaming over his face and neck and hands like he was the most interesting thing it had ever seen. Gavin fidgeted under its stare. He had never met anyone who looked at him like that. It was disconcerting.

His face began to grow hot from the fixed attention and eventually, he returned the unwanted stare with a glare of his own.

“Hey. _Hey._ Do you _mind_?” he quipped irritably, stilling his pen. “If you’re going to be creepy like this, then I’m going straight back to Fowler and make him _order_ you to leave me alone.”

“I am observing the manner of your writing, Detective,” explained the RK900. “It’s… I’ve never seen a human write standing up before.”

At this unusual comment, Gavin stepped away a little because the android was hovering a little too close to him and he was determined to maintain some distance between them.

“It’s not like we only write at our desks, plastic-head,” he then pointed out with a scoff. “We can multitask. And this shit you see here isn’t anything special, you know.”

“But most officers and investigators these days use electronic devices to record data and carry out a variety of different tasks,” the RK900 countered. “There is guaranteed efficiency and convenience in these methods. Whereas you still prefer to utilise outdated and traditional forms of recording, storing them as the only hardcopy in existence.”

Gavin narrowed his eyes at the android, the corner of his lip lifting into a snarl. “ _Outdated_? Is this your way of trying to insult me?”

The RK900 blinked. It looked confused. “ _No,_ ” it blurted out. “Again, I only intended to emphasise on how… unusual your methods are. Also that I have never seen you write standing up before.”

“That’s just a weird thing for you to say. I’ve seen _you_ creeping around the corridor at the station with your nose in a notebook yesterday,” Gavin emphasised, recalling the memory. “Standing there like some weird mannequin.”

“It is different with me. I am unable to observe how I look like. It is… not the same when it is you.”

“How the fuck am I different?”

The RK900 said, “When you write, you grip your pen between your forefinger and your middle finger–” At this, Gavin was unable to stop himself from looking down at his own hand, where his pen lay nestled between the two digits in an uncommon gripping style. He used to get a lot of strange looks from other people for the way he held his pen. Over time though, they grew used to the sight, just as he became so used to writing in this way that he barely acknowledged it.

The android continued on, “–You also tend to tap your pen on specific words on the page and make noises with your mouth while you are thinking.”

“Make _noises_?” Gavin was horrified that this detail had been picked up.

“Yes.” The RK900 then pursed its lips and attempted to recreate whatever it observed Gavin doing. What came out of the android’s mouth though was a series of short, stuttered raspberries and nothing like the sound Gavin made. The horribly poor attempt reminded him of a baby trying to blow out a candle, except that they did not know how to do it and ended up making farting noises with their lips instead.

Gavin couldn’t help it; he laughed. For quite a while. His chest felt lighter all of a sudden.

The RK900 looked confused, unable to understand what it had done wrong. It even voiced its own inability: “I… seemed to have failed to emulate the sound you were making.”

“You mean this?”

Gavin demonstrated the correct noise by rounding his lips and blowing air through his teeth in short, stuttered, chattering bursts. He realised he wasn’t even aware he was doing it while in deep thought. These kinds of noises were meaningless and done unconsciously that it was strange for an android to pick these useless human actions up and think them unique.

“Yes,” confirmed the RK900, its face brightening in curiosity. “Why do you do that by the way?”

Gavin shrugged. “Fuck if I know. I just _do._ ”

The android nodded, looking contemplative. “Do all humans do that?”

“Shouldn’t _you_ know?” Gavin shot back. “I thought you detective ‘droids were supposed to be familiar with human behaviour, considering you have a psychological profiling module.” He paused and then let out an exaggerated gasp, feigning shock, “No way! Could it _be_? That Cyberlife fucked up somewhere and instead of a badass robot on its way to the FBI, we get one with the emotional capacity of a little baby? Oh _shit_!”

“I detect some unnecessary sarcasm, Detective.” The RK900 actually had the _gall_ to sound distasteful for that jibe. It was almost hilarious. Almost.

“Yeah well, I detect that we’re just wasting valuable fucking _time_ ,” Gavin countered and went back to reviewing his notes again. “Look, plastic-head, if you want to keep observing me or whatever, just do it at a distance and don’t fucking distract me while I work, okay?”

“Agreed.” The RK900 then pointed at Gavin’s jacket, where he’d stashed his tablet. “I believe the security footage you requested is now ready for viewing.”

The first drone managed to catch a glimpse of Heather Mills strolling down the street. She had a pair of bright green headphones on and her eyes were fixed on the phone she held in her hands. The timestamp on the footage informed him that this was caught at 2328 hours. That was about three minutes before her uncharacteristic message was sent to her flatmate’s phone. Since Mills was holding the device, was it possible that she might be composing said message at that very moment? It seemed unlikely; Mills’s thumbs weren’t typing anything.

There were very few people walking down the street late that night. The only ones who had been present at that specific time included a harried businessman with a tattered briefcase in hand, who overtook Mills on the street and tried to flag down a passing taxi but was disappointed when said taxi turned out to be pre-booked. The other pedestrians were another man who was conversing deeply with an android. Both of them were walking in the same direction as Mills was. It wasn’t an unusual sight to see androids and humans on pleasant and equal terms nowadays compared to before. This human male looked young, perhaps another university student, while his android companion was a red-haired male that still retained its LED. Without the android uniform though, it was impossible to tell what kind of model it was.

The second security clip showed the footage at a further point down the street. The timestamp read 2335, a few minutes after Mills’s message was sent. No one crossed the street or passed under the security drone’s scrutiny except for the pre-booked taxi, its signal light now off to indicate passenger occupancy. A second later, the young human male came into view, this time without his android companion. The businessman was also nowhere in sight but there had been visible signs showing he already left the street earlier in the first security clip. Gavin sped through the rest of this second footage until midnight but Mills nor any of the other missing pedestrians showed up.

He quickly pulled out his notebook to scribble down the new findings. _Mills deviated from her route / went missing between 2328 and 2335 hours._ At least he could now identify some witnesses – the harried businessman, the young male, and his android companion. He frowned; he would have to request a facial scan to identify them.

He wasn’t aware that he had written his thoughts on paper until the RK900 said, having read the information from over his shoulder: “I have identified your witnesses, Detective.”

Gavin looked at the android expectantly and waited. The RK900 returned his gaze politely.

“Ugh. Do I actually have to ask you?” Gavin sighed, exasperated. “Fucking androids. Come on then. Who are they?”

The businessman’s name was Harold Sawyer, aged 47, a financial manager at the Harman Bank branch near to the university and was once arrested for driving under influence. The younger male was Anthony Smart, aged 26, working a full-time job at the university convenience store and held a criminal record that included assault and harassment. Finally, the android was a VH500 model, a commercial android designed for shop assistance service, who also worked at the same university convenience store as Anthony Smart which explained their familiarity with one another.  

“The convenience store is back at the university campus,” Gavin said aloud as he finished jotting down the witness details that the RK900 was relaying to him. “Come on, plastic-head. Let’s see if we can catch our guys on shift and get them to answer a few questions.”

The car ride to the convenience store was thankfully silent, save for the RK900 continuing its quiet observation of him. Gavin spent about two minutes in the autonomous car staring down at his notes, occasionally rubbing his stinging eyes, before the android’s voice shook him out of his stupor.

“Detective,” it called. “We have arrived.”

“Really?” Gavin tucked his notebook back into his jacket pocket. “That was fast.”

“You fell asleep,” pointed out the RK900 in its usual matter-of-factly tone. “For most of the seven-minute ride.”

“Huh. Well I hope you hadn’t spent all that fucking time watching me sleep, you weirdo.” Despite the nap, the heavy weariness in his bones still remained. Gavin exited the car and straightened his jacket, letting his thumb rub over the police badge clipped to his belt. Before him was the university convenience store, brightly lit in fluorescent white, and he was glad to see the two witnesses they were about to question loitering inside.

Before he could proceed though, the RK900’s voice made him pause in his tracks. “Are you sure you are fit to question these witnesses, Detective?”

Gavin scowled and shot a look over his shoulder at the android. “You _actually_ doubting me on my fucking _job_?”

“I am not suggesting anything. I am merely pointing out that the consistent symptoms of your ongoing sleep deprivation may impair your ability in some way. If you are unable to perform the questioning, I would be able to do it on your behalf as it is certain that I will extract the required information much more efficiently–”

“ _Shhh_!” Gavin hissed sharply, holding up a finger to the android’s face like he was shushing a whining child. “What the fuck did I say about you getting involved in my case? I said you can _watch_ , not take part. You say shit like that again and we’re going straight back to Fowler.”

Without another glance, he stepped into the store and at once, their two witnesses’ heads turned to see him and the RK900 enter. The plastic one of the pair chimed out the usual polite greeting and nod while the human one was staring at the RK900 like he had never seen an android before.

Gavin went up to the counter and flashed his badge at them, making sure to watch their faces carefully as they studied his form of identification. The human man’s eyes barely glanced over the lettering of the badge before they darted towards the RK900 again. His android co-worker remained politely neutral beside him. Gavin cleared his throat.

“Anthony Smart?” Anthony’s attention averted from the RK900 back to him. “And… yeah, you. Android. Detective Reed from the DPD. Just have a few questions I’m hoping you can answer for me.”

“What’s this about, Officer?” Anthony Smart asked through a nervous smile.

“ _Detective_ ,” Gavin corrected irritably, clipping his badge back onto his belt. “I’m investigating the disappearance of a woman named Heather Mills, university student who goes here. Hadn’t been seen for two nights. You and plastic boy are the last people to see her before she went missing.”

Anthony furrowed his brow in deep thought. “I don’t think I know anyone with that name though...”

Gavin pulled out his tablet and showed the man a photo of the woman. Anthony’s eyes widened in recognition.

“Oh yeah, I _know_ her. Seen her around. She sometimes comes in here late at night to pick up some groceries. And you say she’s missing?”

“I just need to ask you two some questions. You got a room we can talk in?”

“Y-Yes. Of course. I’ll try to be of help,” said Anthony before he shot a look at his android companion. “Um. But does Reagan here need to be questioned too, Detective? I mean, he’s an android. So… I dunno. He didn’t do anything wrong. He’s kinda innocent. Like a kid, you know.”

Gavin looked at the VH500 android, who was smiling its stupidly polite customer service smile, and suppressed a groan. Anthony did make a good point though. Gavin would rather avoid questioning androids if he could. It was just so hard sometimes to get an answer from them without wanting to hit them in the face. They were either too transparent with their confessions or too stubborn to blab anything out. He had no patience for either.

Nonetheless, this android was absent in the second security footage along with Mills. It might know something.

“It’ll just be a few questions,” Gavin insisted tiredly. “Standard protocol. Since androids are now recognised as citizens, we have to question them like the rest of us. Now, private room, talk, please?”

“Oh.” Anthony seemed uneasy at the answer. His gaze kept wandering over Gavin’s shoulder to where the RK900 loomed silently behind him. “Is _he_ coming in with us too?”

Gavin looked at the RK900. “It’s not part of the investigation but it’s staying with us during the questioning.”

“Ah. Okay.”

As they followed Anthony to the back of the store, Gavin leaned back to mutter to the RK900. “Oh look what you did, plastic-head,” he couldn’t help taunting. “You’re scaring the witness with your intimidating baby face!”

“Detective,” the RK900 said quietly, ignoring Gavin’s words as it bent its head close to his and Gavin found himself studying the bridge of its nose thanks to their proximity. “Anthony Smart’s heart rate hasn’t dropped from 100 beats per minute since we first entered the store.”

Gavin tore his gaze away from the android’s nose to the man they were following. “What about the android?”

“Stress levels are at 12%. It is stable.”

“Hm.” Gavin eyed Anthony as the latter led them into a small meeting room at the back of the convenience store – an unremarkable space, cramped but surprisingly clean and dust-free. Gavin took the seat which the VH500 android pulled out for him and proceeded to wave it away when it asked him if he wanted something to drink. He was displeased when he sensed the RK900 settle right behind him, towering over his sitting form. He was about to tell it to back off when he caught the way Anthony’s attention remained riveted on the android behind him. The young man was nervous by its presence. A bit _too_ nervous.

“How well do you know Heather Mills?” Gavin began his questions.

“Not very well,” answered Anthony. “I’ve only seen her come into the store a few times. The most that I’ve talked with her was over the counter when she pays.”

“What were you doing on Wednesday night, around 11 to 11.30pm?”

“I just finished my shift. I also wasn’t feeling too well and I had no money for a cab. So Reagan here offered to walk me back.” At the sound of its name, the VH500 android’s smile widened; it was delighted by the acknowledgement.

“Did you recognise Heather walking a little bit ahead of you that time? She had headphones on. Bright green ones.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that was her. I wasn’t paying much attention, you see. I was busy talking to Reagan.”

“What happened after?”

“I think she might have turned off the street or something. I didn’t see her leave. I just know she wasn’t in front of us anymore.”

Gavin continued his questions, trying to extract more information every time Anthony mentioned something interesting that he could follow-up on. At some point, he pulled out his notebook to quickly jot some notes down. The amount of information he was getting, especially when his mind was feeling like slush at the moment, was overwhelming.

All throughout the interview, Gavin continued to pick up Anthony’s discomfort and uneasiness towards the RK900. What _was_ it that made the man act this way? He idly tapped on a page of his notebook with his pen, pretending to come up with more questions, but his mind raced, trying to link pieces of the annotated information together to see if anything could make sense. The tip of his pen brushed against a crudely drawn heart he had doodled into his notes. “100” was written in the middle of said heart.

100 beats per minute. The RK900 could read Anthony’s heartbeat. The RK900 could tell if Anthony was lying.

 _Was_ Anthony lying this whole time?

“Are you _sure_ you don’t know Heather Mills at all?” Gavin posed the question with extra emphasis. Anthony immediately shook his head, insistent upon his unfamiliarity of the woman.

Gavin purposely tilted his head up to look at the RK900 standing behind him, trying to feign doubt and suspicion for Anthony’s answer, and the android automatically shifted its gaze downwards to look back at him.

A strange, intimate moment passed when their eyes met, grey converging on grey. Feeling uncomfortably awkward about it, Gavin quickly turned back to Anthony and was successful in catching the young man visibly fidgeting in his seat at their open display of exchanged stares.

“You okay there, bud?” Gavin asked, his attention now sharpened a bit more.

“I’m sorry. I–” Anthony flustered, having been called out on his fidgetiness and went to scratch the stubble on his chin. He indicated towards the RK900. “Is he new? Sorry. He kind of makes me nervous.” The man let out a sheepish laugh at his own admission.

“Don’t mind it.” Gavin smiled wryly. “But that’s all my questions for now, Anthony. If you have further information about anything else, just give me a call.”

“I hope you find her, Detective,” said Anthony once Gavin slid his card across the table for the young man to take.

“I hope so too,” said Gavin and then pointed at the VH500 who stood in the corner. “Okay. Your turn.”

When the VH500 sat down and Anthony went to take the space it just vacated, Gavin said, “Actually, I’d like to question the android alone.”

At once, Anthony frowned, his body language morphing into something bordering defensive. “Wait a second. I don’t think that’s fair, Detective. Reagan was standing here while I was being questioned. And now you’re saying that when it’s _his_ turn, _I’m_ not allowed to stay?”

This was the first time Anthony had shown any kind of resistance. So far, he had been compliant.

“What’s it to you anyway?” Gavin enquired with a slight narrowing of his eyes.

“I just don’t think that’s fair,” Anthony argued. “Maybe you’re discriminating against humans now that androids have rights and they’re lucky to get the long end of the stick.” Gavin saw the man’s eyes darting towards the RK900 again as he said that.

He felt a dull ache begin to pulsate deep within his skull. If he wanted to get anything out of this, it was better that he do it soon. “I don’t have time for this. Hey–” he looked up at the RK900, addressing it. “Escort Anthony Smart outside while I ask Mr. Plastic Smile here some questions.”

Anthony’s frown deepened. “Now wait just a minute–”

“We’ll only be five minutes or so. Don’t worry. Terminator 900 here will keep you company in the meantime.”

Gavin watched gleefully as the RK900 shepherded the man outside the room with just its piercing grey stare. The door shut and Gavin was now alone with the VH500.

He flipped a couple of pages in his notebook, searching for the record of the security drone footage. Tapping on the paper, he then looked at his interviewee.

“Alright. You.”

“Reagan,” corrected the VH500 with a polite smile.

“Sure. Whatever. Anyway, a security drone caught you and Anthony walking down the street several paces behind Heather Mills. Do _you_ know what happened to her?”

“She left the street,” reported the android easily.

“Exactly what time?”

The VH500 didn’t even hesitate. “11.32pm. That’s when she got off the street.”

Gavin crossed his arms and rested them on the table. “What do you mean ‘she got off the street’?”

“She was on the street. And then she wasn’t anymore.”

 _Here we go_. “Yes, but where did she _go_?”

“Somewhere else.”

Gavin sighed, frustrated. If there was one thing humans and androids differed when it came to answering questions, it was that humans became purposely evasive if they wanted to hide something. Androids, on the other hand, were completely and socially inadept at _talking_ that it became meaningless to try and wring out a relevant answer. This was another reason why Gavin hated interrogating androids so much. They were a fucking waste of time.

Despite his current predicament, Gavin thought of Heather Mills, her suspicious disappearance, her worried flatmate and the reaction of Mills’s family if the woman was never found. There was already something strange going on with Anthony and this android seemed to be his best lead for now.

He suddenly remembered some details from the second security footage. It showed Anthony Smart walking down the street but no sign of Heather Mills or the VH500 android. There was no one else on that road except the autonomous taxi. With its lights off. To indicate there was someone inside.

“Did you see Heather board a pre-booked taxi?” Gavin asked, making a mental note to investigate said taxi further and perhaps acquire a list of clients who had used it during that time.

“I… am not certain.” This was the first time the android sounded hesitant. Gavin saw its eyes dart towards the door. Where Anthony was outside with the RK900.

_Got you._

He slowly shut his notebook and ran his fingers over the olive-green cover. “How long have you known Anthony, Reagan?” he asked, his tone a forced calm and casual. “Are you two best friends?”

“I would not term our relationship as that of best friends,” the VH500 said slowly but the smile on its face as it said this was almost genuine, almost fond. “But we’re friends. He treats me very well and has taught me a lot about becoming human. About how good and beneficial it is to become human.”

“Really?” Gavin made sure both his expression and tone were keen and interested despite the fact that he didn’t care at all about the android’s feelings. “What kind of things did Anthony teach you?”

“All sorts of things,” replied the android enthusiastically, its whole being perking up. “That it is fun to graffiti designs on government buildings even if it is against the law – because as a human or if you are becoming human, you need to learn to express yourself. To feel things fully and completely. Like when he taught me the fact that if you stick your head out of a moving car at high speed and yell really loudly, you will feel the emotions of exhilaration and ecstasy. But the most important one that he always talks to me about is love.”

“Love?”

“How humans express their love for one another.” The VH500 was nodding to all this, like it was affirming Anthony’s teachings to itself. “If you love someone, even if they don’t know it yet, you still have to show them that you love them. Get to know them and what they like. What their habits are. What they are happy or sad about. If you know a person deeply, it shows how much you love them.”

The way the VH500 talked about Anthony, the way its eyes shone with such keenness, made Gavin’s stomach twist unpleasantly. He managed to grind out the suggestion, “Are you in love with this guy?”

The VH500 cocked its head to the side, imitating the gesture of deep thought. “I don’t know. Perhaps yes. Perhaps no. But I do know that Anthony is already in love with someone else.”

“That’s too bad.” Gavin _really_ didn’t care at all about any of this. “So he’s into another android or something?”

“No. A human woman. Calluna,” answered the VH500. “It’s a sad story though. Because Calluna doesn’t know the depth of Anthony’s feelings for her. But he had a plan to show his love for her. He asked for my help. He was doing it in the name of love.”

“Calluna.” Gavin rolled the name around his tongue. His hand found his pen and he flipped through his notebook, quickly scribbling the information down. _Calluna._ It sounded familiar. So very familiar. “Who is she? Does she come here often?”

“Only late at night. She buys groceries. Anthony would stare at her but was too shy to say anything more than ‘thank you’ and ‘here is your change’.”

Gavin tapped the name with his pen, his mind racing. _Calluna_. He felt like he should _know_ this because it was like an obscure word that sat on the tip of his tongue, something that was within reach if he could just find a link or some kind of connection to get there.

“What was so special about Calluna?” Gavin continued his questions. “Why does he love her?”

“He said she makes him feel alive.” The VH500 smiled again, a wide and profound smile, like it could relate to what it felt to be truly alive. “Anthony wanted so hard to keep her safe. To make her his to be kept safe. For her to know that he wanted to be with her.”

“Do you live with Anthony?” Gavin wondered if the VH500’s lovesick ramblings was because it was constantly by the human male’s side even after work hours.

“No. Anthony lives with his mother.”

The pen in Gavin’s hand stilled from tapping the ‘a’ of ‘Calluna’. Mother, said the VH500. _Mother_.

Gavin’s own mother, before she passed, used to keep a garden in the backyard of her home. It was a hobby she cultivated in her final months before succumbing to her illness. Ma had a habit of calling her plants by their full scientific name, only because she knew it drove Gavin crazy. One of the plants she grew was the calluna vulgaris.

Calluna vulgaris. Also known as the common heather plant.

“Shit.” Gavin felt a sudden tension take over his body, his heartbeat speeding up at the realisation. He slowly turned his gaze onto the android. _Son of a fucking_ bitch.

The VH500 noticed his alarm. The fucker even had the balls to address it. “Is something wrong, Detective?”

Gavin suddenly lunged across the table and seized the android by its collar. Blood was roaring in his ears and his face burned hot in anger. “Where the _hell_ is she?” he snarled into the VH500’s mildly startled face, shaking the damn thing in his grasp.

“I don’t comprehend,” the VH500 replied, its voice not sounding remotely distressed but polite instead. It did not struggle or fight against Gavin’s rough hold on it. “Please refrain from violence or I would have to ask you to leave the store as is our store policy with difficult customers.”

“Calluna _is_ Heather Mills,” Gavin stated emphatically and the android’s eyelids fluttered in response. For the first time, its LED circled red. Gavin shook it again. “You and that fucker, Anthony, _took_ her, didn’t you?”

“We only wanted to keep her safe,” insisted the VH500. “She was walking alone late that night. It was dangerous to be alone in the dark. It was a good thing we kept an eye on her and it was a good thing too that Anthony booked that taxi to follow us. He told me to make her sleep. So she wouldn’t struggle. We even sent a message using her phone to her loved ones so that they wouldn’t worry.”

_Fucking androids._

Gavin yanked it even closer to his face. “Where is she now?”

The android’s LED circled back to yellow. “Somewhere safe.”

“I _said._ Where the _fuck_ is she now?”

The VH500 did not answer. Gavin drew a hand back and whacked the android hard in the face.

“Fucking _answer_ me, you fucking piece of shit!”

“She is somewhere _safe_.” The android remained obstinate with its answer. It was no use. Gavin was wasting his breath trying to wrestle anything out of this machine.

He forcefully shoved the VH500 back into its seat and stood up, grabbing his notebook and stuffing it back into his jacket pocket. He then pointed a finger at the android’s face.

“You. You stay there,” he ordered it. “Don’t you fucking move. You and lover boy are under arrest for the abduction of Heather Mills.”

“I–” the android looked helplessly baffled by the declaration. Its LED began to pulse red again. “I don’t comprehend. Why are you arresting Anthony? He didn’t do anything wrong. He was only protecting the one he loves!”

Gavin did not bother listening. He bolted for the door, yanking it open, and found a visibly sweating Anthony fidgeting outside with the RK900, who met his gaze as it continued to stand there calmly with its hands behind its back.

“Anthony Smart,” Gavin proclaimed, taking a step out of the cramped meeting room. “You–”

He couldn’t understand what happened after that because at that very moment, something hard smashed into the back of his head. There was the sound of shattering ceramic and his vision flashed red-white, a sharp pain exploded inside his skull, and then Gavin’s world tilted off balance. He felt his knees hit the floor and then there was nothing but darkness.

When he came to, a medical android was staring down at him.

“Welcome back, Detective Reed,” it greeted him. “You suffered a mild concussion caused by the force of a blunt object, specifically a ceramic coffee mug, hitting you in the back of the head–”

Gavin sat up quickly and regretted it when a head rush immediately hit him. He clutched his head, trying to will away his disorientation. Looking around, he found that he was still at the convenience store but there was now a medical droid present with him along with a few patrol officers. He saw Chris Miller hurrying over to him once the man noticed him awake.

“Detective. Good to see you’re up,” said Chris, offering a hand for him to take. Gavin took it and allowed the other man to pull him to his feet before quickly shaking the hand away.

“Where’s Anthony Smart?” he demanded, sweeping his gaze across the convenience store. When he glanced back at the meeting room, he saw the broken pieces of ceramic from where the mysterious mug had hit him. That fucking android. Gavin should have punched it when he had the chance. “Where’s his VH500?”

“They’ve both been apprehended by Big Connor after your attack and taken into custody,” Chris reported. “It was Connor who called it in. Big Connor, I mean. He also called for an ambulance.”

Of course the RK900 had easily detained them. Gavin remembered how easily it disassembled his gun with one hand the first time they met.

“Where the hell is it now?” Indeed the android was nowhere in sight. Although he was glad that his two witnesses turned perpetrators had been arrested, Heather Mills was still missing and he needed to find her and make sure she was safe.

“Chris, where did it _go_?” Gavin snapped and Chris ducked his head to fiddle with the screen of his tablet. A second later, he held it up and Gavin was able to see a map and a location. He didn’t bother asking Chris where he had obtained that information.

He pulled out his car keys. “Chris, ready the asshole and his android for interrogation when I get back.”

“Where are you going?” Chris called as Gavin ran out of the store and entered his car. He switched it from auto to manual with a push of a button.

“To find the missing girl!” he yelled at no one in particular as he pulled away from the curb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Gavin is a really good detective and a weirdo who holds his pen in a strange way, end of story.
> 
> \- RK900 is a big baby who makes farting noises because he doesn't know how to imitate mouth sounds that humans make when idle or thoughtful. Because a super advanced machine doesn't need this ability as part of its programming, right?
> 
> \- In case you hadn't picked up because I had deliberately made it super subtle, Gavin is constantly sleep deprived. It's such a normal state to him at this point that he leaves his car on autonomous / self-driving mode as he knows he tends to fall asleep during car rides. Also, ever wondered why he's so cranky and stressed out? *Points to reason above*
> 
> \- Favourite scene in this chapter: "Gavin purposely tilted his head up to look at the RK900... and the android automatically shifted its gaze downwards to look back at him. A strange, intimate moment passed when their eyes met, grey converging on grey."
> 
> \- "'You. You stay there,' he ordered it. 'Don’t you fucking move.'" -- if you think those lines sound familiar, it's because Todd Williams said the same thing to Kara in the Stormy Night chapter of the game.
> 
> \- A lot of Reed900 fics feature criminal cases where androids and murders are involved. I wanted something that isn't necessarily so. So I went for a quick and solvable missing persons case instead. And lo and behold, Gavin does most of the work??


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for 300+ kudos for Chapter 3.  
> Thank you for your comments and kudos and general feedback so far.  
> Bless you @Imiaslavie for keeping me company with your wonderfully long comments.

Gavin zoomed down the street, occasionally jerking the steering wheel to swerve around the slower moving autonomous cars in his way, all while fighting back the sharp pain throbbing in the back of his skull. It was not long before he saw, to his utter disbelief, the RK900 sprinting down the pedestrian pavement like an Olympic runner, its arms pumping at its sides and its long legs moving in a blur across the concrete. It was heading to the same direction as he was and didn’t so much as look his way as it tore down the street, the ends of its white and black jacket swishing behind it.

“For the love of fuck,” Gavin swore and then floored the gas, accelerating the car to surpass the damn thing. He saw its face in the side mirror, fixed in a determined expression, with that stupid tuft of hair flying about its forehead. He turned his gaze back to the front.

In two minutes, he reached the location Chris had showed him on his tablet. The property was in a rundown area of downtown Detroit, with many closed-down storefronts and boarded up abandoned buildings. Gavin got out of the car and found himself staring up at a dilapidated block of flats. There were signs of occupancy inside: a washing line hung with laundry, a dead potted plant or two propped on top of a rusty air-conditioning unit, a figure walking past a window blowing clouds of red smoke.

Gavin took out his gun, checking the magazine, before sliding it back into its holster. A second later, he jumped when the RK900 suddenly appeared by his side, having caught up with him from its earlier sprint. It did not look flustered or out of breath after its long run. Even the little tuft of hair had settled neatly back against its forehead.

“Detective Reed,” the RK900 greeted in that same matter-of-factly tone. It then looked quite taken aback when Gavin suddenly punched it on the shoulder in irritation. That didn’t earn him anything but a bunch of sore knuckles.

“You plastic son of a bitch,” Gavin accused. “You _left_ me!”

“You were unconscious, Detective,” the android tried to explain, its eyes and LED blinking in surprise for a second. “Locating and extracting the missing individual is the priority of this mission.”

“You seem to forget that this is _my_ case, tin can,” Gavin reminded it and winced when a sharp pain throbbed in his skull again. Damn concussion. He tenderly rubbed at the back of his head. “Whatever. Now is not the time. You stay the fuck behind me and you don’t _do_ anything. Got it?”

The RK900 nodded. “Affirmative.”

They entered the decrepit property, Gavin wincing a little at the smell of mildew and rotten wood. It was dark and dirty inside; the walls were stained black with amalgamated footprints and the floor was littered with debris and cigarette butts. He peered up the narrow, steep staircase, seeing rows of apartment doors on the upper landings, and realised he had no idea which one held Heather Mills inside.

He looked back at the RK900. “Do you know where she is?” he asked bluntly.

The android quickly scanned the upstairs landings with the same stare that reminded Gavin of a security drone again. Its LED pulsed yellow for a moment. “The top floor,” it finally identified. “Apartment 47.”

“Right.” Gavin figured that the android was able to scan through doors and walls if it could identify their target so easily like that. Even Connor didn’t have this ability built into it. Cyberlife really did do a massive upgrade on this model. “Is there anyone else in the apartment with her?”

“Just an android canine unit but no other humans around.”

They climbed the steep rickety stairs, Gavin carefully avoiding the many cracks and holes on the wooden steps, and soon found themselves facing Apartment 47. The faded plaque next to it read “Smart”.

 _Not so smart now, Anthony?_ Gavin thought as he tried the doorknob and found it locked. _Serves you right for befriending a stupid, gullible android who couldn’t even keep your dirty secrets._

He knocked on the door. “Heather?” he called. “Heather Mills? Detroit Police. Are you in there?”

Through the wood, he heard the sound of a female’s muffled yelling, like she had been gagged. Gavin did not waste any more time stepping back and kicking the door open with his foot, the collision of his boot against wood kicking up a cloud of dust and wood chippings. He rushed inside and–

It was the second time when everything became too fast for him to process. One second he was stepping into the apartment to see Heather Mills, bound and gagged against a rusting radiator, and the next, there was an inhuman snarl and something leapt at him with fur and frothing jaws.

“ _Fuck_!”

He had expected sharp teeth to tear into his throat, but a hand grabbed and yanked his arm, pulling him against a body that wrapped itself around him, and Gavin found his face tucked into a high collar made of black and white fabric. There was a vicious snap as a pair of jaws closed around a limb, followed by a dissonance of aggressive growling and snarling, and then the body shielding him gave a hard tug as something was dislodged, sounding mechanical. A thirium pump regulator suddenly dropped to the floor with a clatter. Not long after that came a series of whining, snuffling and panting noises, sounding broken and machine-like, at their feet.

The RK900 released him from the protective hold of its arms and Gavin stumbled backwards, white-faced, breathing hard and his heart pounding in his chest.

“You are unharmed, Detective,” the android informed him calmly. It appeared unaffected by the unexpected attack as it straightened itself. The only thing that was out of line was a large rip in its jacket sleeve. Underneath that was no sign of damage, no torn skin or spilt blue blood. Nothing. This thing was really built like a fucking tank, incredibly resilient and impenetrable to damage.

The horrible whining continued. Gavin looked down and saw the android dog that had tried to maul him, a pit bull model, its legs moving jerkily on the floor like a wind-up toy slowly running out of energy to move. Its thirium pump regulator had been ripped out of its body and was lying in a small pool of blue blood. Its eyes were staring straight ahead, its mouth opening and closing, and its tongue lolled out, trailing saliva. Its LED blinked a bright red. The thing was on its way to shut down.

Gavin felt sick looking at it. As much as he hated androids that looked like humans, he despised the ones which looked like animals. They were far too lifelike, far too much like the real thing that they were easily susceptible to abuse without anyone feeling sorry for them. They were machines, yes – but why the fuck do they have to look like _animals_?

He ignored the whining and shuffling the best he could and turned towards Heather Mills.

“Hey. You’re safe now,” he reassured her as he crouched and began to undo her bindings and gag. “We got the assholes who did this to you. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

The moment Mills’s hands were free, Gavin almost fell back when she threw her arms around him and sobbed brokenly into his shoulder. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she rasped. He awkwardly patted her on the back, feeling flustered by the show of gratitude and relief, and carefully shucked off his jacket. He draped it around her trembling shoulders before helping her to her feet.

“Come on. We’re taking you home,” he said and began to support her limping across the floor towards the exit, passing the android dog which had finally shut down. By the door, Gavin caught the RK900 watching him, at the way he had wrapped his jacket around the rescued woman, before it began to follow them from behind.

As they left the run-down neighbourhood with Heather Mills, pale and shaking and looking tiny in Gavin’s jacket in the front passenger seat, and the RK900, silent and watchful from its place in the backseat, Gavin switched the car from manual back to auto and settled against the window, letting his eyes fall closed and his exhausted mind shut down.

Fucking hell. What a day.

* * *

Extracting a full confession from Anthony Smart was simple but it took the entire night for Gavin to compile all the evidence together to build a case worthy enough to have it appear in court. By the time he finished, it was nearing four in the morning and he only had a few hours to catch some shut-eye before returning to work again to begin a new day and another case.

When he arrived at the station, rubbing his bleary eyes and waving off Chris’s greeting, Gavin collected his mug, still containing yesterday’s coffee, from his desk and slowly dragged himself to the break room. He failed to notice someone standing there in the corner until he finished replenishing his beverage, grabbing a doughnut from a stray box lying on the counter, and settling himself against the standing table to watch the news playing on the TV screen.

“Good morning, Detective.” Gavin turned and found himself staring up at the RK900 leaning against the table right next to him in another awkward and uncomfortably stiff pose. It took him a couple of seconds to realise that the android was really there.

“Oh. It’s you.” Gavin sighed, feeling too drained to muster up any animosity into his voice. He took a slow bite out of his doughnut. Sugary sweetness exploded in his mouth and he chewed mechanically before turning his attention back to the TV. News footage rolled across the screen but Gavin found himself absorbing nothing. He idly drummed his fingers on the table before looking down at his doughnut, suddenly distracted by the colour of the icing. Blue and yellow.

Next to him, the RK900 had started drumming its own fingers experimentally on the table. Gavin soon realised that it was imitating his movements. He stopped immediately.

The android stopped too. “I would like to speak to you, Detective,” it then announced.

“You’re speaking to me now, aren’t you?” Gavin took another slow bite, not looking at the android. “Even if I tell you not to, you’ll just continue talking like I hadn’t said anything.”

When the RK900 hesitated, Gavin coaxed it on. “Well? Go on, plastic-head. Say whatever it is you want to say. Better rant it all out now while I’m still half-asleep.”

Again the RK900 hesitated, its LED circling from blue to yellow, and Gavin’s attention was drawn towards that colour change.

“That would be unproductive, Detective,” it pointed out. “Your continued sleep deficiency is affecting your concentration levels at the moment. It would be more effective for you to process information when you are fully awake and your mind is focused. Otherwise it–”

Gavin suddenly reached up and gently poked the android’s LED, still pulsating that bright uncertain yellow, with his forefinger. The skin he touched felt smooth and cool underneath his fingertip. He did not realise what he had done until he was aware that the RK900 had abruptly stopped talking. It was now looking down at him, its eyes wide and its mouth slightly open. It appeared quite taken aback by his unusually bold action.

_Wait. What the fuck did I just–_

Gavin quickly jerked his hand away and self-consciously rubbed the back of it onto his jacket. He then cleared his throat, feeling the heat of a horrified shame creep up his neck and ears for what he had done. He quickly tried to cover it up. “Look. You, ah, wanted to say something to me, right? Then just fucking say it already.”

“Very well. It is about the events of the day before,” resumed the RK900, looking composed again, its LED finally reverting back to its usual calm blue. “I have a question pertaining to the interview you conducted with the VH500 android.”

Judging by what the RK900 said, Gavin was now quite certain that it could listen through walls and had therefore eavesdropped on the questioning yesterday. This opened up a whole new set of queries. He waved his doughnut at the RK900’s face in emphasis.

“I got questions for you too, tin can,” he mumbled. “Firstly, tell me what the fuck happened back there. How did you know Anthony and his android pal were both guilty?”

“I had already pointed out the unusual heart rate of Anthony Smart the moment we both entered the store,” answered the RK900, still leaning on its elbows against the table in that same stupid, rigid pose. “You obviously noticed that his attention kept shifting onto me because he suspected that I was able to read his stress levels. Every time you mentioned Heather Mills’s name, his heartbeat would quicken. When you revealed her photo, his stress level spiked the highest. He lied consistently throughout the questioning. All these signs increased the statistical likelihood that Anthony Smart was directly involved in Heather Mills’s disappearance.”

Gavin narrowed his eyes at the android, the corner of his lip curling into the beginnings of a scowl. “So you _knew_ Anthony was the asshole we were after and you never thought to fucking _tell_ me that from the beginning?”

“I was interested to see whether you were able to deduce that conclusion yourself,” said the RK900 by way of explanation. “Although you failed to extract Anthony Smart’s confession during his interview session, it was fortunate that you were able to do so with the VH500. Which is why I wanted to say this – may I ask how you figured it out?”

“No,” Gavin automatically answered.

The RK900’s eyes travelled downwards to his chest, to his heart. “Would you prefer it if I examined your notebook again to acquire the answer?”

“ _No._ ” Gavin moved his arm so that it covered his chest. “Stop staring, for fuck’s sake. It’s creepy.”

“Detective, I would like to know how you arrived at your conclusion to which the VH500 knew where Heather Mills was.” The RK900’s tone continued to remain cool and composed and so fucking _persistent_ that Gavin realised that no matter how many times he rejected the android, it still wasn’t going to leave him alone.

Knowing that, the rest of his expression matured into a fully-fledged scowl. “What’s it to you anyway?” he growled.

“I reaffirm what I said before, Detective.” The android’s grey gaze was unwavering. “I requested to observe and study your methods as you work your case in real time because I am interested in the way your mind processes, synchronises information and arrives at a conclusion. So I would ask you again – how did you figure it out?”

If Gavin had been baffled to hear just how _preposterous_ it was that a fucking android was interested in the way his mind worked, hearing it aloud again turned that bafflement into incredulity. He had never had anyone perceive him in such a way before. He had thought it unnerving the first time but now, he just felt… privileged.

“The android mentioned that Anthony lived with his mother,” Gavin finally revealed in a quiet, hushed voice and absent-mindedly rubbed at the scar on his nose. “My own mother once grew some shrubs of heather outside her house before I got them replanted after her passing. Ma kept calling them her _calluna vulgaris_. That’s how I figured it out. Calluna and Heather were the same people.”

The RK900 silently nodded at him in understanding. Gavin thought its eyes looked a little brighter now after his disclosure and he turned away to sip his coffee. It had gone cold.

“My turn,” he said after letting the rich bitterness wash all over his tongue and throat. “How did you find out where those two were hiding Heather?”

“It was through the most efficient means.” The RK900’s voice was matter-of-factly again. “After incapacitating both Anthony Smart and the VH500 following the latter’s assault on you, I probed the android’s memory and acquired the information. Once I placed the necessary calls, I wasted no more time and began my pursuit.”

“Great to know,” Gavin muttered. Strangely, he felt no bitterness or annoyance towards the android’s initiative to rescue Heather Mills while Gavin was compromised. The important thing now was that they found her and she could return home safely to her loved ones. “Anything else?”

“Yes.” Gavin did not bother hiding his noise of disgruntlement or the rolling of his eyes at the RK900 and its endless questions. “Now that you have answered my enquiry, I would like to share my evaluation of you from this case.”

“ _What?_ Since when did _this_ become a fucking evaluation?”

“I assumed that you might like to know my thoughts about you.”

“Maybe I don’t care _what_ you think.”

“If you are concerned about whether my evaluation of you may be negative, you need not worry. I am not here to judge you–”

Gavin took another sip of his coffee, his voice muffled by the mug. “Like I said. I don’t _care._ ”

“My conclusion is that you continue to be an intriguing individual, Detective.”

He lowered his mug to find that grey stare on him again, the look suggesting that Gavin was the most interesting thing the RK900 had seen so far. He shifted against the table, unsettled by the attention.

“Why do you keep saying that?” Gavin was sceptical at best and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear an explanation for such a bold statement.

The RK900 perked up a little, as if pleased it was given permission to speak further. “There are a number of factors that led to that conclusion. I have already explained how your notebook was the incentive of my initial interest into your person. Now, after seeing you on the field, examining evidence and recording them in hard copy using your own coding system, and then after also seeing you piece together the information and finally solve the case… Being there with you and seeing it all happen, I never thought I would…” it paused, mustering up the unnecessary breath to say, “– _feel_ something from this experience.”

Gavin waited a few seconds for the android to continue. When it didn’t, he sighed impatiently and prompted the RK900 with obvious reluctance, “What did you feel?”

An expression of perplexity stole over the RK900’s face, made even more prominent by the deep crease that appeared between its eyebrows. “I… do not know. It is difficult to describe the feelings. I am aware that androids are able to emulate emotions but… when one really _feels_ them and is _aware_ of them, they are actually very difficult to identify. I do recognise the sentiment of eagerness. And excitement, I feel that too. As for the rest… Perhaps my predecessor might know what they are…”

It looked pensive for a moment before it added, “I _am_ certain of one thing though – I would like to experience them again.”

“Uh huh. Yeah, okay. That’s great,” Gavin deadpanned before letting out an exaggerated breath. “Listen, I didn’t sign up for this dumb sharing session with you so let’s not do this again. Now that we’re finally _done_ here–”

“I have another request for you,” blurted out the RK900, almost too eagerly.

Gavin groaned. “Oh god.”

“I would like you to teach me to become more human.”

There was an outstandingly long and delayed pause. All before–

“Okay. I’m done here.” Gavin straightened and swiftly picked up his mug and doughnut in each hand. “It is _far_ too fucking early to be dealing with all this shit, my fucking coffee has gone cold and I also have a fucking headache from having a mug thrown at the back of my head. Yeah, today has been just fucking _great_ so far.”

“I seem to detect your incredulity, Detective. And your inability to process this request,” the RK900 pointed out and stepped forth to intervene in his path to leave the break room. It bent its head down so that its grey gaze could catch his. “Please. Let me explain.”

“Why can’t you just fucking leave me alone?” Gavin whined. “You’ve been a headache this whole time and I’m too fucking tired to deal with you right now.”

“Please.” The RK900’s voice had gone quiet again. “Let me explain.”

Gavin, for whatever reason, actually considered letting the android do so. He really had no choice in the matter. He blamed this all on the fact that the world continued to be a pain in the ass and that someone or _something_ out there just enjoyed fucking with him.

He lifted his chin and glared at the RK900 expectantly. He became aware of the vast difference in their heights and of how close they stood facing one another.

“I had been thinking about the VH500,” began the RK900. “It mentioned its friendship with Anthony Smart and how much of an influence Anthony had been to it. It said that Anthony taught it many things about becoming human.”

“Lemme guess,” Gavin deduced resignedly, his already heavy, weary shoulders slumping further in defeat. “You wanna do the same thing too.”

“I am aware that I am undergoing deviancy,” the android continued hesitantly. “Just as it is the case for most androids these days. I know that I am a new and unexperienced model. But in my time here at the Detroit Police Department, I have assimilated, accommodated and re-evaluated a plethora of information. My predecessor introduced me to the concept of having a hobby and thus, undertaking this personal project – irrelevant as it is to the organisation I am assigned to – has opened up some new perspectives and insights about the world around me. I feel that I have advanced in some way, especially in the manner of which I perceive things, but I also feel that I require some guidance to move towards the right direction. The VH500 had acquired it from an immoral and unlawful source. I, however, would like to avoid this and thus, reasonably conclude that the best facilitator for my further development… is you.”

“You know you’re in a police station, right?” Gavin pointed out. “You have a whole bunch of losers sitting around here who can be your goddamn teacher. Why the fuck does it have to be _me_?”

“I have already informed you why, Detective,” said the RK900 patiently. “You are intriguing to me. And it is not _just_ your thought processes which I find interesting, but other things too – your behaviour, your gestures, even the unnecessary human motions like the noises you make with your mouth. What I am trying to say is that perhaps I may have formed some kind of… attachment to you during our time together. Whatever it is you do as a human – as an android, I find it appealing enough to want to… imitate.”

Gavin thought he was experiencing déjà vu. If his hands were free right now, he would be burying his face into them. “Are you telling me that the reason why you want me to teach you to become more human is because you think I’m _cool_?”

The android cocked its head, brow furrowed and LED circling yellow. “Is that what you call it?” It looked genuinely confused.

_Fucking hell._

“You. Are such. A _child._ ” Gavin made sure to enunciate every word with emphasis. “You know that right? You’re a fucking child.”

“I am satisfied to hear that you finally understand my predicament,” chimed the RK900 brightly. “Now you know why it is imperative that I require your guidance.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Gavin’s arms were getting tired of holding up his items. He would really like to go back to his desk and sit down now. He fixed the RK900 a glum look. “If I say yes, will you finally let me get the fuck back to work?”

The android nodded. For a second, its lips twitched, like it was going to smile. “That would be favourable.”

There was nothing he could do. There was no way he could stop this unfortunate turn of events so it would probably make his life easier if he just fucking gave in to this stupid shit.

“ _Fine,_ ” Gavin finally conceded. “You want to keep tagging along? Do what you fucking want. You’ve got another two more fucking weeks with us anyway. If you piss me off in any way, you can just fuck off. Now. Will you let me _out_ already?”

The corner of the RK900’s lips twitched and then stretched upwards and Gavin had the displeasure of seeing it smile for the first time. It was awkward, stiff and horrific. “Thank you, Detective.”

It then held out its hands, palms open, and gestured towards the coffee and doughnut in Gavin’s twin hold. “Allow me to help you carry these to your desk.”

Gavin instinctively clutched the items tighter and held them close to his chest. “No. Don’t touch me. Just get out of my way.”

“It would be more effective if–” The RK900 reached closer and its fingers brushed against Gavin’s mug.

“Get _out_ of the way,” Gavin repeated, his voice sharper this time, aware of the close proximity of their fingers.

“Detective, please.” The android’s voice became firm but still polite. “I _insist._ ” Then it suddenly took hold of the mug in Gavin’s hand, its fingers wrapping around his, and Gavin flinched at the touch. He immediately tried to pull his hand back.

“Shit!”

Cold coffee sloshed out of the rim of the mug as a result of the violent tug and liquid spilled all over Gavin’s hand, sleeve and the front of his shirt. He let go of mug and doughnut. The RK900 shot out its arm and caught the falling mug in mid-air. The doughnut, unfortunately, was unable to be saved on time.

“For fuck’s sake! Look what you did!” Gavin shook his soaked hand, splattering droplets of coffee everywhere. The front of his shirt was soaked, sticking to his collarbone. He glared at the RK900 and was satisfied to see that it had not escaped the damage of their struggle; there was a large coffee stain tarnishing the pristine white sections of its jacket. It still held Gavin’s mug in its hand.

“I apologise,” said the RK900. “I did not intend to be an inconvenience. Please. I would like to recompense by brewing you a new mug of coffee.”

Gavin stared at the android for a moment. It was better to say yes to save him from having to endure any more of this shit.

“Just put it on my desk,” Gavin snapped and swept past the RK900 to head towards the bathroom and clean himself up.

When he got back to his seat, the front of his shirt free from the scent of coffee and his jacket draped over his arm, there was a steaming mug on his desk. The RK900 stood nearby, looking satisfied with itself with its arms folded neatly behind its back. The coffee stain on its jacket was gone.

“Seeing that you require full alertness and concentration for your tasks today, you will be pleased to know that I have made sure this coffee will grant you maximum productivity and effectiveness, Detective,” announced the RK900. “I am ready to begin my education from you. What is the first lesson?”

“I’ll tell you what your first lesson is–” Gavin picked his fresh mug of coffee and was about to tell the android that the first lesson was to learn to leave him the fuck alone. However, the moment he sipped his coffee and felt the wash of warmth in his chest as the liquid slid down his throat, he faltered. He looked at his mug. The coffee tasted exceptionally strong and bitter. Did the RK900 use different coffee beans this time? He took another sip and found that he rather liked the taste and the effect it brought. He also felt truly awake for once.

Maybe he could get through this. He learned how to better tolerate the RK900 after all.

The android in question waited patiently for the words of its first lesson. Gavin saved the waiting by waving his hand at it. “Look. I’ll tell you what it is once you actually _learn_ it, okay, plastic-head?” he said as he set the mug down and began to power up his terminal. “Now, if you could leave me the fuck alone for an hour or so and let me do my work?”

“Of course, Detective,” nodded the RK900 and Gavin was relieved to finally be free of its interference for the time being.

* * *

The RK900 had taken to wandering around the station again when Connor walked past his desk later on that day. Their original android detective suddenly paused and looked at the mug of coffee Gavin held in his hand, scanning it.

“The fuck you want?” Gavin couldn’t help but taunt. It was Connor’s fault after all that the RK900 decided to pick a hobby that _had_ to involve him. He held up the coffee mug in his hand for Connor to see. “You want a taste of this? Would you like it all over your head or straight onto your face?”

Connor’s face twitched, a miniscule movement that could suggest the restraint of a comeback for that gibe, but then its lips stretched into a polite smile. “Nothing, Detective Reed. I just merely wish you a pleasant and restful night when you return home.” It turned and departed from his sight.

“Whatever,” Gavin called after it before slumping back against his seat, stretching his legs out and resting them on top of his desk. His notebook lay open on his lap. He felt more awake than he had done all week.

Today, despite its rocky and frustrating beginnings, was going to be a good day.

* * *

Today, despite being a generally good and productive one, ended with Gavin being unable to fall asleep.

“For fuck’s sake,” he grumbled after becoming sick of tossing and turning and pacing around his room, only to end up disturbing the cat and her kittens from their slumber in the corner. He reached for his phone to find that it was nearing six in the morning. At that very moment, he realised just _why_ he felt so alert all night.

 _You will be pleased to know that I have made sure this coffee will grant you maximum productivity and effectiveness_ – the RK900 said to him more than twelve hours ago.

Fucking android. It thought it was trying to help, trying to improve his work performance by putting too much caffeine into his coffee. It explained why it tasted so fucking strong. Maximum productivity and effectiveness _indeed._ Gavin groaned frustratingly into his pillow. What the fuck had he agreed to for the next two weeks?

As he wallowed in his regret for his latest decision, outside his window, morning arrived in the form of the first shards of sunlight piercing the dawn sky, signaling the beginning and the promise of change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- RK900 is a badass roboboy and dork baby all in one package. Gavin is not amused.
> 
> \- I always get kind of confused as to why in fanart (and to some extent, fic) RK900 always retains some kind of damage usually after stepping in to shield/save Gavin's life. I understand that we want to set off some worry and concern from either party but didn't Amanda mention just how strongly built and resilient RK900 is? Especially since his predecessor, i.e. Connor, can be notoriously easy to get damaged?
> 
> \- I love looking at fanart when someone pokes/boops someone's LED and they get rendered speechless by it. There's just something intimate about touching that area even when I don't think it's a sensitive part of an android. Come to think of it, I don't think androids _have_ any sensitive parts. Do they?
> 
> \- "Being there with you and seeing it all happen, I never thought I would…” it paused, mustering up the unnecessary breath to say, “– _feel_ something from this experience.”
> 
> \- “I have another request for you,” blurted out the RK900, almost too eagerly. / Gavin groaned. “Oh god.” / “I would like you to teach me to become more human.” / There was an outstandingly long and delayed pause. All before– / “Okay. I’m done here.”
> 
> \- “Nothing, Detective Reed. I just merely wish you a pleasant and restful night when you return home.” Thanks for the heads-up, Connor.
> 
> and finally,
> 
> \- the awkward moment when your android tries to help you become more efficient and ends up ruining your whole night instead due to lack of sleep.
> 
> And that's a wrap! Thank you so much to all who have stopped by and much love to those who have stuck around until the end. I hope you have enjoyed the first part of this slowbuild series and hope to see you again in Part Two coming soon!

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing for this fandom so any feedback is wholly appreciated. Thank you for stopping by.


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